THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 5? cars S3 
 
 . ■ g t— BP c* S 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 ENDOWED BY THE 
 DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC 
 SOCIETIES 
 
 ps 2236 
 
 .L25 
 
 S3 
 
UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 00008738315 
 
Scattered jbeaves* 
 
 S3 
 
 BY 
 
 LUCIE MAYNARD LEACH. 
 
 NEW YORK . 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHORES! 
 
 E. J. HALE & SON, PUBLIS 
 Murray Street. 
 1877, 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, 
 By Mrs. L. M. Leach, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED 
 
 m BY 
 
 National Printing Company, 
 13 chambers st., n. y. 
 
OF 
 
 MY SAINTED FATHER AND MOTHER, 
 
 Whose bright example and holy teachings have ever 
 shed a halo about my pathway, I most affec- 
 tionately dedicate this little volume, 
 with the warmest love. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2014 
 
 https://archive.org/details/scatteredleavesOOIeac 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 To the Memory of Robert E. Lee, . . . 11 
 
 Walter Vane: or, The Maniac Bride, . . .13 
 
 An Acrostic, . . . . . 17 
 
 Our Baby, ....... 18 
 
 Inconvenience of a Moustache, .... 20 
 
 Lines to One I Love, . . . . ... 21 
 
 Caldwell's Reply, ...... 22 
 
 Speak Gently, ....... 23 
 
 The Doctor's Appeal, ... . . . 25 
 
 The Ocean Maid, . . . . . .29 
 
 These Little Boots, . . . . 32 
 
 Lenora, . . . . . . .34 
 
 To My Father, 37 
 
 The Twin Brothers : or, A Tale of Treachery, . . 39 
 Change, . . . . . . 45 
 
 In Memoriam, . . . . . 46 
 
 A Tale of the Wine-cup, . . . . . 49 
 
 Lines, . . . . . . . .51 
 
 The Curse of Gold : or, The Old. Man's Bride, . . 52 
 Inaugural Ode, ... ... 54 
 
 Let Me Go! . . . . . . 50 
 
vi 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Written during Illness, to an Absent Father, . .58 
 Georgie and Birdie, . . . . . 59 
 
 Farewell to the Sweet Sunny Hopes of my Youth, . 61 
 
 Thoughts Suggested by a Handful of Blue-bird Feathers, 62 
 A Lady's Reply, . . . . . . .63 
 
 Children's Fancies, ..... 68 
 
 Little Delno, 71 
 
 Geraldine, ....... 73 
 
 Imitation of The Song of the Shirt, . . . .75 
 
 The Dying Soldier, . . . . . 76 
 
 Farewell! (Written on the Reception of a Package), . 79 
 The Maniac Mother, ..... 80 
 
 A Smile from Thee, . . . . .82 
 
 The Twin Angels, 83 
 
 The Song of the Plough'boy, . . . .85 
 
 Sleep On, Father ! ..... 87 
 
 Cleora, .89 
 
 The Burnt Boy. An Incident of Real Life, . . 90 
 
 Watching, . . . . . . .95 
 
 The Little Word, No! ... .98 
 
 Alice Gray, 100 
 
 An Appeal to the Grange, . . . . 102 
 
 Lines to One I Love, ... ... 104 
 
 InMemoriam, ...... 106 
 
 To a Young Bachelor, who said he had Written a Poem 
 
 on " Home," 109 
 
 To Alice, .... . 110 
 
 Lines, . . • . . . Ill 
 
 We are but Four, . . . . .112 
 
CONTENTS. vii 
 
 Page. 
 
 To Rosa, . . . . . . . 113 
 
 Farewell! . . . . . . .116 
 
 Lines, . . . . . . 118 
 
 Beatrice. Fragments of an Unwritten Life, . . 119 
 
 Another Less to Love Me, .... 124 
 
 To My Little Boy, Asleep, . . . . .125 
 
 Just on the Other Side, ..... 127 
 
 Thoughts on Seeing Fergurson's Cartoon of The Guber- 
 natorial Race, ...... 128 
 
 Under t he Snow, ...... 130 
 
 Lines to a Friend, ...... 131 
 
 Why don't I get a Letter ? 132 
 Molasses and Mush. (A Parody) .... 134 
 
 Over the Way, ...... 135 
 
 The Married Man's Melody. (A Parody) . • . . 138 
 I Heard Thy Thrilling Voice, .... 139 
 
 The Neglected Grave, . . . . .140 
 
 An Acrostic, ...... 143 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 These Poems are offered to the Public at the 
 instance of friends, who desire such a work, and who 
 persuade the authoress that it will be acceptable. 
 
 In justice to herself she would state that the 
 Poems, with but few exceptions, were written by 
 her while a school-girl, under twenty years of age. 
 Perhaps they may let a sunbeam in upon some 
 otherwise darkened corner of the parlor or fireside, 
 or reflect sentiments congenial to those who love 
 the poetical, and are ever reaching out after such 
 beams. 
 
 If they should serve to add a ray of light to 
 such hearth-stones, or pour balm into some sorrow- 
 ing heart, the authoress will feel fully recompensed. 
 
TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 Dead ! dead ! Oh, tell me not 
 That on that brow serene 
 
 The death-damp lies ; 
 That on Earth's bosom, hallowed spot ! 
 He sleeps ; no more be seen 
 
 Those soul-lit eyes. 
 
 We loved, we reverenced him ; 
 Our sad lament we raise 
 
 Throughout the land 5 
 Our eyes with tears are dim ; 
 His foes e'en yield him praise — 
 
 So good — so grand ! 
 
 Farewell ! — a long farewell ! 
 Thou type of purity ; 
 
 We grieve to part. 
 Thy power none can tell, 
 But true humility 
 
 Was in thy heart. 
 
12 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Oft will Lee's soldiers tell. 
 When by the camp-fire's light, 
 
 The hero's story — 
 Of words remembered well, 
 To which his smile, so bright, 
 
 Lent wondrous glory. 
 
 While we this tribute give, 
 With pain each bosom smarts 
 
 Loved ties to sever — 
 But General Lee will live 
 Enshrined in Southern hearts ; 
 
 Yes, live forever ! 
 
 Farewell ! Oh ! let us pray — 
 Yes, we who loved him so — 
 
 On bended lmee, 
 To live like him we may, 
 And die — we ask no more — 
 
 Like Robert Lee ! 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 13 
 
 OR, THE MANIAC BRIDE. 
 
 ? Twas evening, just at twilight, 
 
 And the cannon's boom was hushed, 
 
 Thinking, in the waning skylight, 
 Of the hearts its dawn had crushed. 
 
 Resting, weary of the battle, 
 On the hard and gory ground, 
 
 Free awhile from whiz and rattle 
 Of the musketry around, 
 
 We were dreaming — some of sorrow, 
 
 Some pf happiness untold 5 
 All forgetful that the morrow 
 
 Would new agonies unfold — 
 
 When, upstarting from our slumber, 
 Bright the vision we beheld : 
 
 One there was amid our number, 
 
 Whose wild words our bosoms swelled. 
 
 Golden ringlets, softly shading 
 Brow of pearl and neck of snow, 
 
 And a light, those brown eyes lading, 
 Full of tears and full of woe. 
 
14 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Brown eyes, once so joyous beaming, 
 "Well we knew whose pride they were ; 
 
 But so like an angel seeming, 
 
 That we bowed our heads in awe. 
 
 Voice so plaintive, soft and mellow, 
 Charmed our eager, listening ear • 
 
 Seraph-like, from each rough fellow 
 Her wild story drew a tear. 
 
 " Where is Walter ? Can you show me ? 
 I have looked above, below me, 
 
 And no trace of him I find ; 
 But three suns have set in beauty 
 Since, to fill his post of duty, 
 
 Walter left his bride behind. 
 
 " Yes, they told me he was lying 
 With the dead and with the dying, 
 
 And a ball had pierced his brain ; 
 The eye can look no deeper, 
 But I've noted each pale sleeper, 
 
 Yet I seek him here in vain. 
 
 " Stranger, tell me of my Walter ! 
 I am strong, oh, clo not falter ; 
 
 Tell me, so that I may rest. 
 Many a mile, so long and dreary, 
 I have come, and, oh ! so weary, 
 
 That I long to find his breast. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 15 
 
 u Stranger, tell me where they laid him — 
 Where the clay-cold grave they made him, 
 
 Coffinless and lone. 
 Tell me, so that I may press him 
 To my heart, and soft caress him — 
 T, his loved lone. 
 
 " There this head, so faint and aching — 
 There this heart, so wildly breaking, 
 
 He will soothe with tender love. 
 I will press his cold lips — stealing 
 Back to life and hope and feeling, 
 
 My own darling from above. 
 
 " I will call him by his pet name — 
 I will tell him of the bright fame 
 
 He has just so nobly won. 
 Oh ! we cannot lose our Walter ! 
 Death his stem decree must alter, 
 
 Else our hearts are all undone. 
 
 " I will tell him of his mother — 
 Widowed, and on earth no other 
 
 Like the son, she cherished so ; 
 Of his baby-sister, Rena — 
 Nought on earth from him can wean her, 
 
 Oh ! we can not let him go ! " 
 
 Slowly, sadly, then we led her 
 Where we laid our comrade down, 
 
16 
 
 sr. i TTERED LEA FES. 
 
 With his knapsack for his pillow. 
 And his blanket wrapped around : 
 
 One bright ringlet, elasped in dying — 
 One loved picture, open wide — 
 
 On his pulseless breast was lying ; 
 More to him than earth beside. 
 
 There we left her to her sorrow, 
 And her anguish wild and keen : 
 
 Language I would vainly borrow 
 To portray that sacred scene. 
 
 Through the nightwatch. long and dreary, 
 TTe could see the white-robed form 
 
 Of the maniac bride, so weary. 
 Like a reed bowed by the storm ; 
 
 Bending o'er our noble brother, 
 
 Striving by each winning art 
 But once more to feel another 
 
 Deep pulsation of his heart. 
 
 All too still ! — in vain she pleaded 
 For one smile, and kissed his brow — 
 
 Cold and motionless ! Unheeded 
 Were the prayers she uttered now. 
 
 Morning dawned, but peace was given ; 
 
 Angels caught the half-breathed prayer 
 Her pure spirit bore to heaven. 
 
 She had found her Walter there. 
 
POEMS OF MllS. LEACH. 
 
 17 
 
 gut ^ttHWt. 
 
 TO MY FATHER AND MOTHER. 
 
 Religion — Sweetest balm to mortals given. 
 Ending — Each sorrow with a hope of heaven. 
 Vice — Ruineth man, religion cieanseth sin, 
 Restores — And gives him peace and joy within. 
 On ! — Prayerful Christian, do not repine ; 
 Blest — Heavenly visions fill thy sonl divine. 
 Endure — In all things — drink willingly thy cap, 
 Religion — Never-failing friend, will bear thee up. 
 Tempted — And sore beset, 'tis all His will, 
 Murmur not — Religion yields comfort still. 
 Ask from on high the aid thou need'st so much ; 
 Yours be a fervent prayer, God answereth such. 
 No more let darkening clouds o'ershade thy mind, 
 Annoy thy soul with doubts they leave behind. 
 Ruin not thy soul, oh sinner, but the world condemn ; 
 Deride Religion not — it is a priceless gem ! 
 
18 
 
 S( A TTERED LEA VES. 
 
 Could we do without the baby, 
 When the day its course hath run ; 
 
 Could we do without her frolics, 
 And blue eyes, so full of fun 1 
 
 When around the cheerful fireside, 
 
 In her Turkish costume sweet, 
 Happy in her little antics, 
 
 We so oft together meet. 
 
 Father's hope, and mother's pleasure ; 
 
 Very dear to every heart — 
 Oh ! she is a priceless treasure ; 
 
 With her we can never part. ' 
 
 How we love to satisfy her 
 
 In her little whims and ways ! 
 Oh ! she is a joy forever, 
 
 Subject fit for poet's lays. 
 
 How she laughs, when " Pup" comes round her, 
 
 Pinches him, and pulls his tail ! 
 Makes the little fellow flounder, 
 
 Sending forth a piteous wail. 
 
POEMS OF MliS. LEACH. 
 
 19 
 
 When of play she's tired and sleepy, 
 She stops putting on her airs — 
 
 Soon we see she's getting " creepy 
 And we make her say her prayers. 
 
 But " Lord ! " is her petition — 
 This is all her lips can frame ; 
 
 Thus she, though without contrition, 
 Early calls upon His name. 
 
 Safely tuck'd under the cover, 
 
 On her lips we press " Good-night !' 
 
 With the prayer that angels hover 
 O'er our little cherub bright. 
 
20 
 
 SCATTERED LEA VES, 
 
 " One kiss, dear girl, I humbly pray/' 7 
 
 And the moustached dandy sidled up — 
 
 " One kiss, oh ! dearest creature, say, 
 Will you not fill with bliss my cup f J 
 
 The blushing maiden bent her head 
 Gently toward that hairy man, 
 
 And in her soft low tones she said, 
 " Sir, you may kiss me — if you can." 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 21 
 
 f inw u — ; 
 
 In thy dark eyes' glance there rests a spell 
 
 Which binds, as if by magic art, 
 This wearied, restless soul to thine ; 
 
 Yea, soul to soul, and heart to heart. 
 
 There was a time, when I was gay 
 And careless of the prize Fd won. 
 
 I cast thy priceless love away, 
 Nor realized what Fd done, 
 
 Till years of untold misery 
 
 Revealed my inmost heart to me ! 
 
 I fondly loved thee — and for years 
 
 Have thought and dreamed of none but thee. 
 
 But, when we m^t, with studied look 
 I shun thy gaze, make light replies, 
 
 Fearing, lest you should learn the truth 
 From out my ever tell-tale eyes. 
 
 Would I could hear thee once again 
 Breathe fervently those vows of old ! 
 
 For their sweet music is enshrined 
 Within my heart's most sacred fold. 
 
 . Once, I would list not to thy tale 
 
 Of earnest love, so freely given ; 
 But now, could I but know its truth, 
 
 To me, this earth would be a heaven. 
 
22 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES, 
 
 The noble reply of Mr. Caldwell, Sr., of Philadelphia, 
 to a friend, who was expressing deep regret that so 
 much of his valuable property had been consumed by 
 fire : 
 
 u I give not a thought to the wealth we have lost ) 
 Earned once, it can earned be again ; 
 But my heart throbs with bitterest grief that it cost 
 The lives of those worthy young men. 
 
 " I count the gold dross ! but this harrowing thought 
 Strikes deep to the heart's inmost core, 
 The lives of those noble and faithful young men 
 We can never, no, never restore ! n 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 23 
 
 Speak gently to the weeping child 
 Whose little heart beats wild with sorrow ) 
 
 Yes, let your tones be low and mild, 
 And bid it hope for joy to-morrow. 
 
 Speak gently 5 tears will cease their flowing, 
 
 The little face with smiles be glowing. 
 
 Speak gently to the maiden fair 
 
 Who sits with wild, dishevelled hair, 
 
 Mourning, with sad, despairing tone, 
 
 Hopes that are fled and friends agonc — 
 
 And soon her tear- wet eye will seek thine own ; 
 
 Will bless thee for thy kind and friendly tone. 
 
 Speak gently to the aged one 
 
 Whose locks are like the frosted snow ; 
 Left in the wide, wide world, alone, 
 
 His heart is buried deep in woe. 
 No more you hear the bitter, friendless moan ) 
 The old man's sorrow will be calmly borne. 
 
 Speak gently to the stranger who 
 Has crossed the heaving waters, blue, 
 Mourning his distant, cherished home, 
 Away across the waters' foam ; 
 
24 
 
 S CA TIERED LEA YES, 
 
 The stranger's heart will bless thee in its woe, 
 The stranger's briny tears will cease their flow. 
 
 Oh ! never let a rudely spoken word 
 
 From out thy lips by mortal ear be heard. 
 
 Yea, while you sojourn in this world below, 
 
 Always speak kindly to both friend and foe ; 
 
 For by a single rash word spoken, 
 
 Hopes have been crushed, and hearts been broken. 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 25 
 
 Go, go, go ! 
 From early morn till night, 
 
 Go, go, go ! 
 While stars are shining bright ; 
 When other folks are sleeping 
 
 Upon their beds of ease, 
 And little squirrels are creeping 
 
 To homes among the trees — 
 In weather warm and dry, 
 
 7 Mid wind, and rain, and snow, 
 I drag, until I almost wish 
 
 My span of life was o'er. 
 
 Go, go, go ! 
 My labor never ends — 
 
 Go, go, go ! 
 To strangers and to friends ; 
 I go, for all their sakes, 
 
 To her who has the fever, 
 To him who has the aches, 
 
 And to the base deceiver. 
 I'm going eternally, 
 
26 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 My labor never flags — 
 None knows, but he who bears them, 
 The weight of saddle-bags. 
 
 Go, go, go ! 
 Till almost out of breath, 
 
 Go, go, go ! 
 Till sick and tired to death. 
 "When social pleasures woo me 
 
 To the cheerful fireside, 
 Out in the dark and gloomy night 
 
 I must prepare to ride. 
 Then, phantoms light and airy 
 
 Go flitting through my brain 5 
 In fact, I feel too weary 
 
 To e'er go out again. 
 
 Go, go, go ! 
 With eyelids heavy and red, 
 
 Go, go, go ! 
 With pain in heart and head. 
 I lay me down to slumber, 
 
 But ere I close my eyes, 
 I hear a dreadful lumber — 
 
 " The doctor ! " some one cries 5 
 Then out of bed I tumble, 
 
 Half frozen and half dressed ; 
 But must not fret or grumble 
 
 Because I get no rest. 
 
POEMS OF MUS. LEACH. 
 
 27 
 
 Go, go, go ! 
 How few the joys I see — 
 
 Go, go, go ! 
 From sorrow never free. 
 My jaded beast seems asking 
 
 A short reprieve from pain ; 
 Oh ! will I ne'er be basking 
 
 In freedom's smile again ? 
 I envy the old farmer, 
 
 Who rises with the light, 
 Or the pale college student 
 
 Who burns the lamp by night. 
 
 Go, go, go ! 
 At every one's behest — 
 
 Go, go, go ! 
 In fact, I get no rest 5 
 To poverty's drear abode, 
 
 To the arrogant, rich and proud, 
 And see the young, as well as the old, 
 
 Asleep in their snowy shroud. 
 I go at every time and place, 
 
 And in all sorts of weather, 
 Until I wonder if they think 
 
 My skin 7 s as thick as leather ? 
 
 Go, go, go ! 
 From night till early morn — 
 Go, go, go ! 
 
26 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 All wearied and worn. 
 
 No kindred heart with sympathy 
 
 And pity now is glowing, 
 That I forever must keep up 
 
 This everlasting going. 
 But oh, I know, too certainly — 
 
 Which makes me quite forlorn — 
 If I continue thus to go, 
 
 That I will soon be gone. 
 
roUMJS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 29 
 
 I wandered by old ocean's side, 
 Its waves were murmuring low ; 
 
 They told of gems deep, deep beneath, 
 Flashing with radiant glow. 
 
 I sat me down to think upon 
 
 Their story — if 'twere true. 
 Could gems of countless value lie 
 
 Far 7 neath its waters blue ? 
 
 I doubted still — when suddenly 
 
 A crested wave rose high ; 
 It burst, and from it came a maid, 
 
 With beauteous brow and eye. 
 
 The white spray robed her matchless form, 
 
 Her brow wore jewels rare ; 
 And diamonds decked her snow-white arm, 
 
 And pearls her flowing hair. 
 
 She moved toward me, and I felt 
 
 Her glorious image shine 
 Upon my heart, and low I knelt 
 
 To worship at her shrine. 
 
30 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 I told her of my princely home. 
 
 Of my possessions wide, 
 And wooed the sea-nymph to become 
 
 My lov'd and cherished bride. 
 
 Like music to my raptured ear 
 
 Came soft tones, rich and low, 
 And, if an earthly being spoke 
 
 Or angel, did I know. 
 
 The world may hold bright charms for thee, 
 Stranger , my home is in the sea, 
 
 Whose waves are white with dashing foam, 
 And well I love my ocean home. 
 
 I have an ocean lover, sir, 
 
 Who wins me to be dutiful ; 
 He braids the sea-gems in my hair, 
 
 And tells me I am beautiful. 
 
 'He calls me ' Water Lily/ fair, 
 
 My eyes to lustrous stars compare ; 
 
 I'd rather list his tender words, 
 
 Than own the wealth of earth-born lords. 
 
 1 A coral palace for me waits, 
 
 Adorned with glittering pearly gates; 
 A chosen band both watch and pray, 
 When I have been too long away. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 31 
 
 " Now stranger, I must say adieu ; 
 
 I know I've been too long with you. 
 Remember not the words youVe said. 
 An oh ! forget the Ocean Maid." 
 
 She stepped upon the glistening wave, 
 Her eye beamed with a radiant light, 
 
 Then gracefully she bent her head, 
 And quickly vanished from my sight. 
 
 Queen of the sea ! my ocean love ! 
 
 Long months have passed since thus we met; 
 Still true to thee my heart doth prove — 
 
 Oh no ! I never can forget ! 
 
32 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES, 
 
 %\\m PM* §00t£- 
 
 These little half-worn boots to me 
 Are dearer far than paltry gold ; 
 
 In memory's mirror now I see 
 A blue-eyed brother, four years old, 
 
 Whose little feet first pressed the sole, 
 Who boasted of his first-rate leather. 
 
 And strutted forth, with courage bold, 
 To face the storm and windy weather. 
 
 Well I remember, at the age 
 
 Ere infancy to boyhood shoots, 
 His father made him old and sage 
 
 By bringing home a pair of boots. 
 
 But many snows have slept upon 
 
 The feet these boots so oft have covered ; 
 
 Death claimed our noble little one — 
 
 Blasted the hopes that round him hovered. 
 
 I could not bear a stranger's hand 
 Should cast them carelessly aside ; 
 
 Though he is in a brighter land, 
 He was our darling and our pride. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH, 
 
 33 
 
 Perhaps when years shall come and go, 
 My spirit will have gone to rest, 
 
 Although this throbbing head lies low, 
 And all pulseless be my breast. 
 
 Oh ! if you chance to come upon 
 This little, rusty, half- worn boot, 
 
 Then think of him, forever gone, 
 And, though 'twill not your fancy suit, 
 
 If covered o'er by web and rust, 
 
 Perhaps 'twill some sweet thoughts awake j 
 With gentle hands remove the dust, 
 
 And drop a tear for Robbie's sake. 
 
34 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Yes, the flower which bloomed so brightly, 
 
 But at dawn of morning light 
 Drooped and withered, ere the watches 
 
 Closed upon another night, 
 By Death's ruthless hand was taken, 
 
 As if only to us lent, 
 Ere its leaflets had expanded, 
 
 Or its fragrant sweetness spent. 
 
 How the little ones will miss her, 
 
 Though we watch with tender care 
 All their little wants and wishes, 
 
 They will miss their mother dear. 
 Oh ! there's no one like a mother ! 
 
 Her soft hand soothed all their pain, 
 But her kiss of warm affection, 
 
 They will never feel again. 
 
 We will miss her, who have known her 
 
 As a sister and a friend ; 
 But to him who long hath loved her, 
 
 Grief will never know an end. 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 35 
 
 Weeks and months, yes, years will vanish, 
 
 And all else may be forgot ; 
 Time can never, never banish 
 
 Thoughts of one dear sacred spot, 
 
 Where she lies, so calmly sleeping, 
 
 Knowing naught of grief or care — 
 Though we mourn with bitter weeping, 
 
 Mourning cannot reach her there. 
 For her spirit, gently basking 
 
 In the Saviour's loving smile, 
 Cannot dream of earthly sorrow, 
 
 And is free from earthly guile. 
 
 He will miss her smiling welcome, 
 
 He will miss her in her chair ; 
 But far more than all will miss her 
 
 At the hour of evening prayer. 
 Where — around the sacred altar — 
 
 They so oft together met, 
 Happy in each other's presence ; 
 
 Would that they were happy yet ! 
 
 And when homeward he is turning, 
 With a slow and heavy tread, 
 
 A moment he will wildly dream, 
 That " Nora" is not dead, 
 
 And in vain will watch the windows, 
 As he slacks his weary pace, 
 
36 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES, 
 
 But to catch one gleam of sunshine 
 From that dear, familiar face. 
 
 But no wife is there to greet him — 
 
 None to speak a cheering word. 
 For his loved one's voice is silent, 
 
 And will nevermore be heard. 
 Yes, 'tis heard by bands of angels, 
 
 Chanting the Immortal Psalm, 
 Joining in the blissful chorus, 
 
 Hallelujah to the Lamb ! 
 
 Weep not ! Nora's home is brighter, 
 
 Though by life-storms wildly tossed ; 
 The rare jewel of her spirit 
 
 Was too precious to be lost. 
 Let this be our consolation — 
 
 Ties which here are rudely riven, 
 Free the loved one from temptation, 
 
 Bind us closer still to heaven. 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 37 
 
 If I have cast one shade of grief 
 
 Across thy furrowed brow, 
 Father, forgive thy erring child, 
 
 And love me, even now. 
 
 I would not grieve thee, father, no — 
 
 And give that bosom pain, 
 Nor slight increase the weight of woe 
 
 Which presses on thy brain. 
 
 Thy spirit chafes beneath its load — 
 
 Thine is a bitter lot ! 
 But thy afflictions come of God ) 
 
 Dear father, murmur not. 
 
 I know thy spirit longs for rest, 
 
 And both by night and day, 
 Bright angels come with glittering wings 
 
 To beckon thee away. 
 
 Stay, father, stay ! for well I know 
 
 That thy devoted wife 
 Would, were it in her power to ease 
 
 Thy suffering, give her life. 
 
33 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES, 
 
 Stay, father, stay ! no more repine — 
 Stay, for 'tis God's decree — 
 
 Soon from this bondage here on earth, 
 He'll set thy spirit free. 
 
 In happier climes thou'lt surely dwell ■ — 
 
 A bright, celestial place — 
 Be like thy Saviour, loved so well, 
 
 And see Him face to face. 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 39 
 
 OR, 
 
 A TALE OF TREACHERY. 
 
 It rains ! Thank God ; it rains to-day ! 
 
 Why, why this bitter tear ? — 
 But no one knows, or cares, the way 
 
 I spend my moments here. 
 
 HI draw my snowy curtains down, 
 
 And turn the blinds again — 
 Close take my seat where naught can drown 
 
 The pattering of the rain. 
 
 This dear old letter ! To my heart 
 
 I press it, wet with tears ; 
 It speaks of happy, blissful hours, 
 
 In the long by-gone years. 
 
 Strange, that I thought it with the rest, 
 
 When in the glowing grate 
 I dashed them ! in my heaving breast 
 
 Was naught but vengeful hate. 
 
 J Tis heaven to read his lines once more — 
 My yearning heart doth dwell 
 
4(1 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 On every soul-impassioned word 
 His tongue could speak so well. 
 
 This dear familiar hand doth wake 
 
 Remembrance of the past ; 
 How long it takes a heart to break ! — 
 
 But it does break — at last. 
 
 I do but dream ! In vain, in vain, 
 
 I would recall the hours, 
 When life was joyous ; free from stain 
 
 My heart as summer flowers ; 
 
 When Ernest wooed me, and I gave 
 
 My heart into his care — 
 For he was noble, true and brave, 
 
 And honored everywhere. 
 
 But I recall the bitter change 
 
 Which wore my life away. 
 And oh ! I blamed him ; strange, how strange, 
 
 That I could seem so gay, 
 
 And be betrothed to Edward ere 
 
 A week has passed, since we 
 Learned that a blue-eyed Southern girl 
 
 His fair-haired bride would be ! 
 
 That still he cherished thoughts of me, 
 A sister, kind and true, 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 41 
 
 And I, poor dupe, did what Fd now 
 Give millions to undo. 
 
 Our wedding day was named a month 
 
 Before he would be home ; 
 It seemed I could not live and see 
 
 Another with him come. 
 
 And Edward loved me 5 'twas enough ) 
 My proud heart now was crushed, 
 
 And its wild yearnings evermore 
 Must in my heart be hushed. 
 
 He gaily smiled and said, " We'll take 
 
 Our brother by surprise f 
 'Twas but a moment, but I saw 
 
 A demon in his eyes, 
 
 But never dreamed such black deceit 
 
 Could stain a human soul. 
 Alas ! could I have known my fate, 
 
 This story were untold. 
 
 Our wedding day, at last, dawned bright ; 
 
 Each vied, in rich array, 
 To deck my form in snowy white, 
 
 And garlands bright and gay ; 
 
 Placed flashing gems, with gentle hand, 
 Upon my aching brow 5 
 
42 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES, 
 
 Naught knew that happy, joyous band, 
 Naught of that broken vow. 
 
 They told me a light in my eye beamed forth, 
 They had never seen there before ; 
 
 How little they dreamed 'twas the light of my soul 
 Dying out, to return nevermore ! 
 
 The hand he clasped was cold .as death — 
 
 He kissed a cheek of snow, 
 White as the fragile orange wreath 
 
 That trembled on my brow. 
 
 'Twas midnight. Mirth was at its height — 
 
 Still, still the dance went on — 
 Edward looked proud of me — and I — 
 
 Thought of the absent one. 
 
 Just then a full-toned, manly voice, 
 
 Fell on my list'ning ear. 
 *Twas he ! 'twas Ernest ! Where his bride ? 
 
 My poor heart throbbed with fear. 
 
 I met his first reproachful glance — 
 
 That look of anguish wild 5 
 The flash of triumph Edward gave, 
 
 So proudly, as he smiled ; 
 
 As Ernest bent and whispered low, 
 "Oh! Lilian, why this change? 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 43 
 
 Another's bride ! Great God ! this blow 
 Doth make me wild ! — How strange !" 
 
 " Ernest !" 'Twas all that I could gasp : 
 That letter, stained with tears, 
 I pressed into his eager grasp — 
 His face revealed his fears. 
 
 Forth from the throng forever p assed 
 
 My idol — yet to learn 
 A brother's treachery, and how deep, 
 
 How fierce, revenge could burn. 
 
 And never since that festal hour 
 
 Have I beheld his face ; 
 He wrote — he feared to trust himself 
 Near our old try sting-place — 
 
 Near to the flowers and favorite books 
 
 We had together loved, 
 "When our young hearts beat high with hope, 
 
 Since hope was all removed. 
 
 Afraid to trust himself to see 
 
 Lilian another's bride ; 
 Afraid, afraid, lest brother's hand 
 
 In brother's blood be dyed. 
 
 They tell me Ernest treads the earth 
 A lone and silent man, 
 
44 
 
 SC ATT Ell ED LEAVES. 
 
 Far from the laud that gave him birth, 
 Life's spring-time scarce began. 
 
 And I, like an imprisoned bird, 
 Still beat my drooping wing 
 
 Against my glittering cage — 
 Sad is the song I sing. 
 
 This dear old letter hath to-day 
 The buried shaft withdrawn, 
 
 And left agape the bleeding wound, 
 As in the long by-gone. 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LLACH. 
 
 45 
 
 The tiny birdling twitters first 
 
 His sweet, short notes, nor sings he long, 
 Until, encharmed by Nature's voice, 
 
 Pours forth his thrilling notes of song. 
 
 All things change ! The beauteous flower 
 
 Was but a tiny bud at first. 
 Until a gentle silvery shower 
 Inclined its velvet leaves to burst. 
 
 I, too, am changed, for we have met — 
 Nor can that meeting I forget ; 
 But tremblingly await my doom — 
 For love has budded, and in bloom. 
 
46 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 I saw her when the flush of health 
 
 Was bright on brow and cheek, 
 Ere Time, with silver-tinted threads, 
 
 Her locks began to streak. 
 Of that unbroken household 
 
 She was the mother-queen — 
 All seemed to honor and obey, 
 
 And on her love to lean. 
 
 When sickness robbed her cheek of bloom, 
 
 And that loved eye of light, 
 I saw her lie, unmurmuring, 
 
 Helpless, and wan, and white ; 
 While anxious hearts beat tenderly, 
 
 Nursing, with ceaseless care ; 
 Each striving to contribute 
 
 To her happiness a share. 
 
 While there's a true pulse left to beat, 
 
 Can I forget the day ? 
 Patient and pure, with voice so sweet, 
 
 At noon she dying lay. 
 Loved forms had gathered round her, 
 
 The last farewell been given, 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 47 
 
 Ere angel-hands had crowned her 
 Victorious — for heaven. 
 
 The bowed form of her husband 
 
 Who in life had loved her well. 
 Too plainly spoke of grief so deep, 
 
 Language would fail to tell. 
 Faithful and ever true to him. 
 
 Of his own life a part — 
 None knew but God the agony 
 
 Of that lone ; widowed heart. 
 
 The gentle girl who for long months 
 
 Had soothed with loving touch 
 Her aching limbs and throbbing brow — 
 
 Nor could she do too much 
 For one who, from her infancy, 
 
 Had been so good and kind 5 
 Almost too great her agony 
 
 For body and for mind. 
 
 And one was there, whose manly form 
 
 Seemed all convulsed with pain 
 At the dread thought, his mother's face 
 
 He ne'er should see again. 
 Unnerved, he leaned against her breast, 
 
 While great sobs shook his frame, 
 Calling in deep, heart-stricken grief, 
 
 On that loved mother's name. 
 
48 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 In her stead he would have battled 
 
 With the grim monster, Death ! 
 It seemed as if he almost caught 
 
 His mother's dying breath. 
 And one — her mother's image — knelt 
 
 And begged her, as she lay, 
 To fold her arms about her 
 
 In the old loving way ; 
 
 Only once more to feel then* touch, 
 
 As in the happy past, 
 Which, as a child, she prized so much ; 
 
 But ah ! it was the last. 
 We followed her, with solemn tread, 
 
 To the cold and silent grave 5 
 Where sweet flowers, she had planted, 
 
 Over her dust will wave. 
 
 Her place on earth is vacant, 
 
 And we look for her in vain ; 
 But she will still forever 
 
 In our fond hearts remain. 
 Oh ! angel-crowned and happy ! 
 
 May we to God resign, 
 Submitting, hoping, praying, 
 
 Our last end be like thine ! 
 
POEMS OF MES. LEACH. 
 
 49 
 
 I've seen the proudest eye grow wild, 
 
 And incoherent words escape 
 Pale lips, that told a tale of love 
 
 Three years ago — oh ! curse the grape ! 
 
 Fve seen those same lips tight compressed, 
 For fear of words while flushed with wine, 
 
 That gently quivered, years ago, 
 
 While being pressed, in love, to mine. 
 
 I've often seen his large dark eye 
 
 With borrowed radiance brightly shine ) 
 
 And oh ! my injured heart doth hate 
 Most bitterly the luring wine. 
 
 When tenderly, with words of love, 
 The stranger wooed me for his bride, 
 
 I felt 'twould be but bliss to walk 
 Life's rugged pathway by his side. 
 
 With perfect confidence I spoke, 
 
 " My hand and heart are wholly thine f 
 
 But dearest ties are sundered wide, 
 For reason of the cursed wine. 
 
^0 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Still, still I loved him — for I learned 
 To love him ere his fault I knew — 
 
 And woman, when she once doth love, 
 Is ever constant, ever true. 
 
 I gave my hand with frenzied mind 
 
 To one who wealth and fame could boast, 
 
 And he is always good and kind — 
 But 'tis not Bernard — I am lost ! 
 
 A cherub bright adorns our home, 
 With clustering curls and sunny eyes ; 
 
 His welcome was a shower of tears, 
 His cradle song a wreath of sighs ; 
 
 And little does the father know, 
 
 "Whose name our baby-darling bears ; 
 
 Or else the bitter knowledge would 
 
 Soon change the smile he always wears. 
 
 We call him Bernie, and I say 
 'Tis a name I fancied long ago — 
 
 He smiles, and lets me have my way , 
 Oh ! would that I could love him more ! 
 
 And now, to bind my soul to earth, 
 
 My boy is but a single tie, 
 Or else 'twould be my earnest wish 
 
 To lean on Bernard's breast and die. 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACII. 
 
 CI 
 
 Ero morn's first beam lights up the skies. 
 All hushed the buzzing of the flics, 
 I open wide my drowsy eyes — 
 To think of thee. 
 
 All through the bright or cloudy day, 
 If with the gloomy or the gay, 
 With sweet relief I turn away — 
 To think of thee. 
 
 When night's dark mantle shades the earth, 
 When tired of revelry and mirth, 
 I count all but of little worth— 
 To thoughts of thee. 
 
 Why this is so I cannot tell ; 
 But when in dreamland's flowery dell, 
 More than aught else I love too well — • 
 To think of thee. 
 
52 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 WUtSnm at MA; 
 
 OR, THE OLD MAN'S BRIDE. 
 WRITTEN AT THE AGE OF FIFTEEN. 
 
 Solitary and alone I roamed the old house o'er and o'er, 
 Half- affrighted, well remembering many a tale of an- 
 cient lore. 
 
 Not a single sound was borne me, wandering through 
 
 those halls of pride 
 And my heart was filled with sorrow — for I was an old 
 
 man's bride. 
 
 Rich and costly were the objects constantly before my 
 eye, 
 
 Yet my heart was very weary, and I almost wished to die. 
 The grim old figures on the wall gazed silently on me, 
 And seemed by looks, if not by words, to mock my 
 misery. 
 
 My friends had left me to my fate ; they thought me 
 happy now, 
 
 Since velvet robes enwrapped my form, and diamonds 
 
 decked my brow ; 
 They little thought the smiles were false, when in that 
 
 throng so gay ; 
 And when alone, a flood of tears soon washed those 
 
 smiles away. 
 
POEMS OF UBS. LEACH. 
 
 53 
 
 Amid that happy, joyous throng, my heart no pleasure, 
 knew, 
 
 For haunting visions filled my brain of one too surely 
 ►true ; 
 
 A pale, sad, pleading face, looked wildly, tearfully in 
 mine, 
 
 But hopelessly I murmured low — Oh no! I am not 
 thine ! 
 
 I would not give my hand to one whose love was 
 wealth untold, 
 
 But madly, recklessly, I sold myself for glittering gold ! 
 And now, the old man's fond caress, his proud and 
 
 flattering smile, 
 I all endure; the smile return, yet suffer all the while. 
 
 The bitter, burning tears of grief I vainly strive to hide, 
 And desolation fills my breast; for Fm an old man's 
 bride. 
 
 Oh ! were I only free again, as free as I have been, 
 Fd wed the one my heart holds dear, and not be ruled 
 by "tin." 
 
54 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Hail ! hail ! all hail, thou blest and glorious day ! 
 
 I haste, my lyre, to strike thy silent strings. 
 Sweep, sweep the volume of thy song away ! 
 
 Spread the glad tidings swift as angels 7 wings. 
 Hail, glorious day ! A State, uprising, claims 
 
 The people's rights — defies a tyrant's power. 
 Shout, shout aloud our gallant leader's name ! 
 
 Thanks be to God for this auspicious hour ! 
 
 All nature wears her loveliest, sweetest smile, 
 
 The brilliant sun takes a more gorgeous hue, 
 The birds trill forth their sunniest lays the while, 
 
 The skies assume a deeper, richer blue. 
 Roll back, ye clouds, big with a nation's prayer ! 
 
 Burst out, glad sunshine ! Sing, ye stars, for joy ! 
 And clap your hands, ye hills ! all, all things share. 
 
 One universal anthem our glad tongues employ. 
 
 This day long looked for, prayed for, here at last ! 
 
 Oppressed, down-trodden, we our part have borne ; 
 Back ! back, behind us, oh thou bitter Past ! 
 
 Sixteen years long the oppressor's rod we've borne, 
 Like the poor captive Israelites, to writhe and mourn. 
 
 A brave and loyal people ! God did the victory give ; 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 55 
 
 Success has crowned our efforts. Yes, the die is cast. 
 
 Our honored Governor, long may he live 
 To guide the helm of state ! We're saved at last! 
 
 Let Z. B. Vance resound from sea to sea ! 
 
 From hill-top and from plain the echo come. 
 Long chained in captive fetters, we are free 
 
 Exiled for years, we are once more at home ) 
 And, while all nature the glad anthem chants, 
 We'll make the welkin ring, Three cheers for Vance ! 
 
56 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 ftf w «*. 
 
 THE LAST WORDS OF A DYING FRIEND. 
 
 The world is receding, heaven soon will appear, 
 Methinks 'tis the seraphim's song that I hear; 
 A robe of blest righteousness waiteth me there, 
 A gloriously beautiful crown I shall wear. 
 
 The angels are beckoning my spirit away, 
 It breaketh its bondage, no longer can stay; 
 IVe done with affliction, temptation and woe, 
 My soul pants for glory ; oh now let me go ! 
 
 This body, so eaten with cancerous sore, 
 Arrayed like the angels, will suffer no more ; 
 These pale lips, now parched by the fever, will sing 
 Hosannas to Jesus, my Lord and my King. 
 
 This frame, now so wasted by ravenous disease, 
 All radiant will shine, while it revels in ease ; 
 No longer will tear-drops of bitterness flow, 
 My soul will be happy ; oh now let me go ! 
 
 Oh weep not that Jesus, in mercy and love, 
 Hath gained me a home with the ransomed above ; 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 57 
 
 With God for a father and angels for friends, 
 Where the spirit in bitterest anguish ne'er bends. 
 
 Oh ! my soul will delight to think of you there ; 
 The love of a mother for children she bare 
 Is fervent in heaven, as pure as below ) 
 My Saviour awaits me, oh now let me go ! 
 
 No more with low murmurs you'll watch near my bed ; 
 Soon I will be sleeping the sleep of the dead. 
 This heart, faintly throbbing, will soon cease to beat, 
 Till gaining new life where the glorified meet. 
 
 Farewell to the loved ones I'm leaving, farewell ! 
 I'm going, the anthems of heaven to swell. 
 The chill hand of Death is on me I know, 
 But " peace is within/ Let me go ! Let me go ! 
 
58 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 W$x\\\m Mxvx% pittas*, to m gtoMtit 
 
 I long for thy return. The hours roll on, 
 But silence whispers yet, " Thou art alone !" 
 Oft in the stilly night, while others rest, 
 Pain racks my throbbing brow, and fills my breast ; 
 Then thoughts of thee will sadly, sweetly come, 
 And much I wish for thee again at home. 
 I miss thy footstep, miss thee near my bed, 
 And- thy dear hand laid kindly on my head. 
 As oft I near thy sacred place of prayer, 
 I hear thy voice in anguish pleading there ; 
 Then all is still — I find 'twas not thy tone, 
 And silence whispers still, " Thou art alone !" 
 Father, come home. Oh ! do not long delay ; 
 Thine absence grows more dreary, day by day. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 59 
 
 GEORGIE. 
 
 Oh say, pretty birdie ! say, how can you be 
 
 So contented and happy 'way up in a tree, 
 
 With the rain pouring 'round you ? Oh, pretty bird, say. 
 
 I'd be almost afraid it would wash me away. 
 
 Here's mother half crazy, for fear dear papa 
 Will be thoroughly drenched ! and how happy you are — 
 And I must be kept in, because of the weather, 
 While you can stay out and not dampen a feather. 
 
 BIRDIE. 
 
 Why, Georgie, you see I'm a snug little fellow, 
 'Way up in a tree, with my big leaf-umbrella. 
 And should a few rain-drops- chaDce on me to get, 
 My feathers lie close ; I could hardly be wet. 
 
 And, besides, what's the use of complainings so sad ? 
 Not the rain you abuse — 'tis your Maker, my lad. 
 He makes the rain fall, and the darkening clouds lower. 
 The sun will shine brighter, though, after the shower. 
 
 When thunders are rolling, and light'nings play round, 
 I shut both my eyes, and, to keep out the sound, 
 
GO 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 I stick my head quickly right under my wing ) 
 And when the storm's over more cheerily sing, 
 
 This, this is my song, which I carol in glee — 
 In all of life's tempests, God takes care of me. 
 So, whether on sea, or the beautiful land, 
 Remember, my boy, we are led by His hand. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 61 
 
 gmmXl to ttoe $mti $mmt} 
 
 Farewell to the sweet sunny hopes of my youth, 
 When my blithe heart from sorrow was free ; 
 
 When I fancied the world was a world of truth. 
 
 Yea, mine was a gay and a joyous youth ; 
 And I caroled gay songs in my glee. 
 
 Farewell ! for a shadow has darkened my path, 
 
 And darker its gloom cannot be ; 
 'Twill hover around, and I scarce can control, 
 While wild bitter thoughts tumultuously roll, 
 
 My passionate misery. 
 
 Sweet flowers have grown by the wayside of life, 
 
 And I plucked them so fragrant and rare ) 
 But oh ! they have withered, and left not a breath, 
 To sweeten my life or to soften my death, 
 Of its delicate fragrance there. 
 
62 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 SUGGESTED BT A HANDFUL OF BLUE-BFRD FEATHERS. 
 
 Poor little hapless blue-bird ! 
 
 Oft hath thy loving mate 
 Chirped his sweet song to thee, 
 
 Early and late. 
 
 His eye hath gazed with glowing pride 
 
 On all thy golden glitter, 
 And his round bosom gently stirred 
 
 To thy soft twitter. 
 
 He waits thee ! longs for thy return, 
 Nor dreams his darling's fate ; 
 
 His joy will soon to sadness turn, 
 Lone, widowed mate ! 
 
 When here to seek thee he will hie, 
 
 This plumage, glossy blue, 
 Will break his heart ! Yes, here they lie, 
 
 But where are you ? 
 
 Oh ! thus in life, when sore bereft, 
 As through its paths we rove, 1 
 
 We find but few the traces left 
 Of those we love. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 63 
 
 "In the city of New York, during a violent snow- 
 storm, a lovely young girl in a state of insensibility 
 was found by a gentleman of wealth and influence, who 
 afterward educated and married her. " 
 
 3 mw* 
 
 The accomplished and beautiful lady of Hon. Mr. 
 
 K , on being asked by a thoughtless acquaintance 
 
 why she so much disliked wine, gave the following 
 touching reply : 
 
 You ask why I so hate the wine ? 
 
 List ! and HI tell you a tale full true. 
 Oh ! had you felt what I have felt, 
 
 Methinks you'd hate and shun it too. 
 
 Once my home was purely bright, 
 
 Nestled mid a land of flowers ) 
 There I drew my infant breath ; 
 
 Quickly sped my childhood hours. 
 
 The birds sang sweetly in the trees ; 
 
 No heart was happier than mine ; 
 The tempter came, as summer's breeze, 
 
 The bright and sparkling ruby wine. 
 
64 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 My mother's cheek grew thin and pale ; 
 
 I wished that I had ne'er been born. 
 She never murmured at her lot, 
 
 But bravely bore and struggled on. 
 
 Mary's eyes were always wet — 
 
 Bitterly of cold she cried, 
 Till her little frame gave way 
 
 'Neath her sorrow, and she died. 
 
 One stormy night, the snow fell fast 
 Upon my poor, uncovered head ; 
 
 With naught to shield me from the blast, 
 I left her corpse to beg some bread. 
 
 My mother lay by Mary's side, 
 With little Willie on her breast, 
 
 Trying to warm his frozen hands, 
 And take, herself, a little rest. 
 
 I begged some one to come with care 
 And take her little stiffened form 
 ■ From out those walls, so damp and bare, 
 And lay it in the grave so warm. 
 
 Poor little sufferer ! I knew 
 
 No more, since God thy spirit hath, 
 Harsh words would thy bright eyes fill, 
 For reason of a father's wrath. 
 
SCATTERED LEAVES, 
 
 65 
 
 " Mother, your little Willie's cold ! 
 
 Here, hold my hand and blow your breath. 
 Your eyes are open, mother, speak ! 
 
 Oh ! tell your Willie, is it death ? 
 
 " Dear mother, hold my little head, 
 
 And press my heated, throbbing brow 5 
 You said we all would soon be dead — 
 Oh ! wake, sweet mother ! kiss me now ! 
 
 " Mother, oh do not sleep so long ! 
 Sis Lillian will soon be home." 
 I sprang toward him, and he said, 
 " Oh ! mother, mother, Lilly's come !" 
 
 I heard the lonely winds around, 
 
 Mournfully and sadly sighing; 
 Mother and Mary both were dead, 
 
 And Willie too, I feared, was dying. 
 
 We wrapped his little shivering form 
 
 In blankets ; o'er and o'er again 
 We tried his stiffened limbs to warm ; 
 
 We tried, but ah ! 'twas all in vain. 
 
 He kissed me, when I took him up, 
 
 Saying, "0 Lilly ! where's the bread?" 
 
 I placed the food between his lips 5 
 
 He moved them once, and then — was dead ! 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 Poor little one, no snowy shroud 
 Is folded round thy fragile frame. 
 
 With thoughts like those, I cried aloud, 
 Knowing no person by their name. 
 
 I sought in vain ; they passed me by, 
 With hurried step and careless tone. 
 
 I sank upon a bank of snow, 
 With one wild agonizing groan. 
 
 Kind Heaven sent a friend to me. 
 
 A stranger came my hand to clasp ; 
 With gentle voice he bade me rise — 
 
 Til ne'er forget his friendly grasp. 
 
 I sprang toward my home once more. 
 
 He said he'd give us fire and bread. 
 I kissed his hand, and o'er and o'er 
 
 Called down rich blessings on his head. 
 
 We reached the door — but not a sound 
 I heard, until sweet Willie said, 
 
 Oh ! mother, mother, speak to me ! 
 Say if you are, like Mary — dead." 
 
 Where Willie sat, my mother lay, 
 
 Her cheeks were stiff with frozen tears ; 
 
 They were, though few, and then her last, 
 The bitterest she had shed for years. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 67 
 
 J ust then my father staggered in ; 
 
 He looked around with frenzied air; 
 A shade of anguish crossed his brow — 
 
 They were his victims lying there. 
 
 He knelt beside his injured wife , 
 
 Chafing her cold hands with his own ; 
 
 Then saying he was tired of life, 
 He died without a single groan. 
 
 We made them all a lone, cold grave. 
 And side by side they calmly sleep 5 
 
 I still, though years have passed away, 
 In sadness for them often weep. 
 
 Yet think not I am all alone ; 
 
 I now am reconciled to life. 
 A nobler bosom shields my own, 
 
 For I am that kind stranger's wife. 
 
 Sir, my tale of woe is done ; 
 
 My eyes are wet — tears brighten thine ; 
 Now tell me, do you understand 
 
 Why I abhor the sparkling wine ? 
 
08 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 " The stars have fallen, little sis/' 
 I heard aunt Chloe say. 
 She didn't know I heard her — 
 'Twas just the other day. 
 
 I thought I'd keep it to myself, 
 
 What I intend to do ; 
 I'm going on a journey soon, 
 
 With no one, sis, but you. 
 
 You must not tell dear mother, 
 
 Nor any living one, 
 I found the place this evening, 
 
 I think, at set of sun, 
 
 Where, in bright heaps, they're lying, 
 
 Our eager coming wait ; 
 For there they've lain since heaven 
 
 Oped wide its golden gate. 
 
 I'll take the market basket, 
 And you, the one that Tom 
 
 Made mother, for it will be light 
 Upon your little arm. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 69 
 
 We'll up and start quite early. 
 
 For we will have to go 
 Many, yes, very many times, 
 
 To get tliern all. you know. 
 
 We'll hide them in the great blue chest 
 Which in the garret stands. 
 
 For 'tis so heavy, robbers can 
 Not move it with their hands ; 
 
 Yes, then I'm sure they will be safe, 
 
 For there's a lock and key ; 
 And none will be the wiser, 
 
 Dear sis, but you and me. 
 
 We'll siring about three dozen, 
 
 A necklace for mamma, 
 And on her pure white forehead 
 
 We'll place our brightest star. 
 
 Oh ! she will be the loveliest 
 
 Our eyes have ever seen ; 
 For with all that about her, 
 
 She'll look just like a queen ! 
 
 We'll give ten to the preacher, 
 Like mother, when he came j 
 
 They shine so much like money, 
 ; Twill be the very same. 
 
TO 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 And to all orphan children 
 
 We'll send a shining star ; 
 And those, too, who are fatherless, 
 
 Dear sister, like we are. 
 
 Aunt Ohloe we will buy a dress, 
 
 To rattle just like starch ; 
 And Sambo '11 sure to want a star, 
 
 To carry, for his watch. 
 
 Well ! then we'll take the others, 
 And haul them to the cars ; 
 
 Oh ! won't folks wonder, when they see 
 A wagon-load of stars ! 
 
 < De Lor ! Marse Charlie neber hear 
 
 How clat dear chile runs on — 
 Why, gracious honey ! dem dar stars 
 Fell long 'fore you was bom ! 
 
 " I bound you makes your fort'n yit, 
 Shore as Fse frying fritters ; 
 Dey alius tole dis nigger, dough, 
 All am not gold dat glitters. 
 
 u Don't look so disfrumcated, chile ! 
 You's rich now — alius wus ; 
 And ain't the fust dat ever seed 
 Dere fort'n in de stars !' ; 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 71 
 
 Ptttf §t\w. 
 
 It is over ! It is over ! 
 
 Death has culled our sweetest flower. 
 Bright hopes did around him hover ; 
 
 Crushed and blasted in an hour ! 
 
 It is over ! It is over ! 
 
 All our tender, tender care 
 For our little suffering darling ! 
 
 Now we miss him everywhere. 
 
 Miss him in his little cradle, 
 In his frolics, and his play 5 
 
 And our hearts are yearning ever 
 For his presence, night and day. 
 
 It is over, all our watching — 
 All the weariness and pain ; 
 
 We have lost our only treasure, 
 And we seek him here in vain. 
 
 Over, all the restless tossing 
 Of that precious little head ! 
 
 There he lies, our one bright blossom } 
 Yes, our little Delno's dead. 
 
 Place white flowers on his bosom, 
 Fold his dear hands on his breast j 
 
72 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 After all his hours of suffering, 
 Let him rest ! Oh ! let him rest ! 
 
 Never more will Dellie scamper, 
 With his eager, outstretched hands, 
 
 Welcoming his father's coming ; 
 Now he sings with angel bands. 
 
 Never, when with toil aweary, 
 
 He returns at close of day, 
 Will his joyous, childish prattle, 
 
 Chase dark clouds and cares away. 
 
 Cold the cheek our lips caressing, 
 Damp the wealth of golden hair, 
 
 Still the little heart's wild throbbing, 
 Though so innocent and fair. 
 
 Little Dclno is an angel ) 
 With the angels he will wait 
 
 Till we cross the shining river, 
 Enter heaven's pearly gate. 
 
 Strange, that we forget while grieving 
 When Death comes, a thing like this : 
 
 Sorrow, as if not believing 
 ? Tis the gate to endless bliss. 
 
 Oh ! we pray our Heavenly Father, 
 
 Strength this bitter stroke to bear ; 
 Take us, when we die, to heaven. 
 We will meet our Delno there. 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 73 
 
 Oh thou wild and treacherous sea ! 
 
 Calmly murmuring, softly swelling ; 
 No music in thy tone to me, 
 
 No melody in all thy telling. 
 
 Far down beneath thy treacherous waves 
 I see the gleam of snow-white fingers ; 
 
 Down deep in ocean's coral caves 
 My Geraldine still sadly lingers. 
 
 Oh thou base and moaning sea ! 
 
 On thy bosom, soft beguiling, 
 Full of bright hopes then were we, 
 
 And life was all a-smiling. 
 
 Thou didst covet her, sea ! 
 
 On her beauty thou wast gloating. 
 See those white arms stretched to me, 
 
 And her brown hair floating, floating ! 
 
 Murmur low, and murmur kindly, 
 
 Soothe the hearts thou hast been breaking 5 
 Those who trust thee blindly, blindly, 
 
 May expect a bitter waking. 
 
 Oh thou softly swelling sea ! 
 
 Sweet and silver-tongued thy moaning ) 
 
74 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 No infant's voice can sweeter be, 
 But there is no atoning ! 
 
 Geraldine ! my brown-eyed maiden, 
 Oh ! come back, come back to me 
 
 From the depths, with rich gems laden, 
 Of the cruel, treacherous sea ! 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 75 
 
 gjtwitatim* 
 
 of the 
 
 Stitch, stitch, stitch ! 
 Bending o'er satin, in rags. 
 
 Stitch, stitch, stitch ! 
 Till every heart-throb lags : 
 For what is there 'neath the poor parched skin, 
 To feed the vital spark within ? 
 Oh ! why so weary, wan and thin ? 
 
 Stitch, stitch, stitch ! 
 
76 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES, 
 
 %1bt § yittfl Mtttr. 
 
 I am wounded, brother, wounded, 
 And I feel my life-blood chill ; 
 
 Though my heart with glory bounded, 
 It must all too soon be still. 
 
 Hold me on thy bosom, brother, 
 Shield me from another dart ; 
 
 I would have thee bear a token 
 To the loved ones of my heart. 
 
 Tell my aged father, Bernard, 
 ? Neath this blow to humbly bow 5 
 
 That I prayed for God to bless him, 
 With the death-damp on my brow. 
 
 Tell my poor grief-stricken mother, 
 
 That the son she nobly gave 
 To her country, prayed and blessed her, 
 
 Ere he filled a soldier's grave. 
 
 Draw your arm close round me, comrade j 
 
 Hold me so I cannot move, 
 For this agony overwhelms me — s 
 
 I would speak of her I love. 
 
 7 Tis my wife, so young and guileless ; 
 ; Tis my wife, so brightly fair. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 77 
 
 Take this scarf her hand embroidered — 
 Take this single tress of hair. 
 
 Do not fail to take them, Bernard ; 
 
 Give them with thine own true hand. 
 Tell her I have fallen bravely 
 
 Fighting for my injured land. 
 
 When this eye — hark ! brother, listen ! — 
 Which in life she loved for years, 
 
 Dimmer grew — but thine doth glisten. 
 Comrade, thank you for your tears ! 
 
 Say that when the summons, brother, 
 For my soul came swiftly down, 
 
 That I longed to feel her kisses 
 Ere I slept beneath the ground 5 
 
 Longed to clasp her to my bosom — 
 Memory brings a wailing cry — 
 
 But the voice was firm, which bade me 
 For my country live or die ! 
 
 Tell her I would have her, brother, 
 Take our blue-eyed baby-girl, 
 
 Kiss away each playful dimple, 
 
 Smoothe each clustering, golden curl 5 
 
 And, while fondling our own darling, 
 Tell her of a father's grave, 
 
SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Far away, though made by strangers, 
 Yet among the good and brave. 
 
 How my heart has, e'en in battle, 
 Yearned to see her, ch ! so much ; 
 
 But once more to hear her prattle, 
 Once to feel her baby touch. 
 
 Must I part with wife, and baby 
 
 Which can scarcely lisp my name I — 
 
 But Pd rather die and leave them, 
 Than to lead a life of shame. 
 
 Oh ! I feel her presence near me, ' 
 
 As in blissful days of yore. 
 See ! she kisses from my forehead 
 
 Locks she loves, all wet with gore. 
 
 But my sight is failing, comrade, 
 And my tongue is stiff with death 5 
 
 Tell her that I prayed to see her, 
 With my latest dying breath. 
 
 How she'll watch, and wait my coming, 
 With an anxious, throbbing heart; 
 
 Tell her we will meet in heaven, 
 Nevermore to live apart. 
 
 Farewell, comrade ! I am dying. 
 
 Angels strew my couch with flowers — 
 Back now to the battle, brother ! 
 
 Fight ! the victory will be ours ! 
 
rOBMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 79 
 
 pxmtW ! 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON THE RECEPTION OF A PACKAGE 
 FROM A FRIEND. 
 
 Why was it that you wrote " Farewell ?; 
 
 Upon the cover ? 
 And can it be you now rejoice 
 
 That all is over 
 
 Did you, while tracing that lone word 
 
 With laughing eye, 
 Repeat the story oft-times heard, 
 
 To some one by ? 
 
 If so, the heart I fondly prized 
 
 Was worth but naught ) 
 If so, my hours of happiness 
 
 Were dearly bought. 
 
 But if, while tracing that lone word, 
 
 Unbidden tears 
 Thy dark eye dimmed, as thoughts went back 
 
 To other years, 
 
 Then all is well \ for I can bear 
 
 The world's cold scorn, 
 The hate of worlds defy, and still 
 Love on ! love on ! 
 
80 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO MRS. D. S. R' 
 
 With her sunny tresses clustering round her beauteous 
 neck of snow. 
 
 And her cheek all dyed with crimson, like the morning's 
 richest glow ; 
 
 Her orbs, so softly shaded with tints of heavenly blue, 
 Gleamed a shining light within them, like the sunset's 
 golden hue. 
 
 The lovely maniac wildly raves, and, kneeling on the 
 ground, 
 
 Clasps closely to her bosom the newly-covered mound. 
 She smiles — soft soothes the baby, which in its grave 
 doth lie, 
 
 And smiles again, as low she sings her infant lullaby. 
 
 Her pure white brow, her large dark eyes, are saddened 
 
 o'er by grief — 
 Thank God, that in delusive dreams she finds a sweet 
 
 relief ! 
 
 She starts ! and frantically cries, in thrilling accents wild, 
 As low she bends above that grave, " God ! restore 
 my child !" 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 81 
 
 A joyous strain is gushing from those lips of ruby red ; 
 The air is changed; and now she chants a requiem for the 
 dead. 
 
 Those glorious eyes are raised to heaven, she breathes a 
 
 fervent prayer — 
 "0 Father ! take me soon, to dwell with my own darling 
 
 there!" 
 
 Those beauteous lips are moving, she breathes, " Father, 
 I come !" 
 
 Bright angels are about her, to waft her spirit home. 
 She meekly laid those death-chilled hands upon her heav- 
 ing breast — 
 
 Without a single struggle, found the maniac mother's rest, 
 
m 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 % gmiXt from Wbtt. 
 
 I'd plunge in the roaring cataract. 
 And bathe in the silvery stream — 
 
 Td search the depths of the mighty deep, 
 To view the diamond's gleam. 
 
 Fd stem the foaming ocean, 
 
 And battle with its surge — 
 Make my home on its restless billows, 
 
 While I list to its mournful dirge. 
 
 Fd search the richest mine of earth, 
 Bring gems from the jeweled sea, 
 
 But for one tender, loving glance, 
 And a golden smile from thee ! 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 83 
 
 Two cherubs, robed in spotless white — 
 
 A vision fair to see — 
 Came to me in my dreams, last night, 
 
 With words of ecstacy. 
 
 So beautiful, so bright and fair, 
 On brow, and cheek, and wing 5 
 
 And oh ! you should have heard the air ! 
 Such, seraphs only sing. 
 
 Yes, hand in hand they came to me, 
 
 Angelically fair, 
 Escorted by a royal band, 
 
 While anthems rent the air. 
 
 Oh mother ! you who truly felt 
 
 That it were death to part 
 With the dead, new-born baby 
 
 Pressed closely to your heart, 
 
 As vainly, vainly you did strive — 
 
 Self-sacrificing wife ! — 
 For his, thy noble husband's sake, 
 
 To warm it into life. 
 
 And, mother — you who never knew 
 Your babe had seen the light, 
 
84 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Till its sweet little baby face 
 Was buried far from sight — 
 
 Can tongue of mortal e'er unfold 
 
 The agony you felt ? 
 Ah no ! — but joy and bliss untold, 
 
 Your loving heart would melt, 
 
 If you could only view, as I, 
 
 The radiant, happy pair, 
 With azure eyes, like summer skies, 
 
 And clustering golden hair, 
 
 As, in my midnight dreams, they came 
 
 To fan my fevered brow, 
 And cool my throbbing temples ! Still, 
 
 Ah ! still in fancy now 
 
 I press those baby lips, which ne'er 
 
 Cooed to thy soft caress, 
 And gaze into those azure eyes, 
 
 Melting with tenderness 5 
 
 As, bending low above my couch, 
 They brought me dreams of rest, 
 
 And breathed their words of tenderness, 
 For those on earth loved best. 
 
 Their messenger to you I come, 
 Come with the tidings sweet 5 
 
 Mother, weep not ! your babes are safe - 
 Safe at the Saviour's feet ! 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 85 
 
 SONG AND CHORUS. 
 
 I will sing you a song, as evening draws near, 
 Of one who down deep in my heart is most dear ; 
 He calls himself Ploughboy, noble and brave ! 
 He's proud as a prince, but he works like a slave. 
 
 CHOKUS : 
 
 Then welcome sweet hour when labor is o'er 5 
 
 I watch, as I sit by my own cottage door, 
 
 And spy in the distance, at twilight so cool, 
 
 My gay, handsome Ploughboy, on his iron-gray mule. 
 
 Let the world scoff and sneer, in its arrogant pride, 
 At his toil-hardened hands and his hat-brim so wide 5 
 It graces a forehead — ah ! fondly I love it ! — 
 A brow which the princes of Europe might covet. 
 Chorus — Then welcome, &c. 
 
 Oh ! sweetest of blessings, to share in his toil, 
 And soothe, when he tires of strife and turmoil ; 
 I would rather, than own countless treasures untold, 
 Have the love of my Ploughboy, gallant and bold ! 
 Chorus — Then welcome, &c. 
 
86 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 He's noble and faithful, he's tender and true, 
 So upright, he scorns any wrong thing to do ; 
 In honor, in virtue, he nothing doth lack — 
 Puts his hand to the plough, and he never looks back. 
 Chorus — Then welcome, &c. 
 
 His eye, like the eagle's, is piercing and bright, 
 His clustering ringlets as dusky as night j 
 So regal a bearing but seldom you see, 
 And dearer than life is my Ploughboy to me. 
 Chorus — Then welcome, &c. 
 
 If the wealth of the Indies were rightfully mine, 
 And all that the mines of Golconda combine, 
 I would haste, with a blessing so tender and sweet, 
 To pour it all out at my Ploughboy's feet. 
 
 Chorus — Then welcome, &e. 
 
 Yet I feel 'tis the richest of blessings below 
 To share in his toil, while my heart's all aglow 
 With deep, fervent love, which no fonder can be, 
 And know that my Ploughboy is faithful to me. 
 Chorus — Then welcome, &c. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 87 
 
 SONG AND CHORUS. 
 
 Sleep on, father, though no marble 
 
 Marks thy sacred resting-place ; 
 Naught on earth can thy loved image 
 
 From thy daughter's heart erase. 
 First the snow, and then the daisies, 
 
 Cover that sweet face from me , 
 Fittest mantle for thy resting — 
 
 Emblems of thy purity. 
 
 chorus : 
 
 Unloved and alone, since thy sweet smile is gone, 
 Free now from earthly sorrow, sleep on, sleep on ! 
 
 Summer skies have lost their brightness, 
 
 Birds and flowers have now no charm, 
 And my heart has lost its lightness, 
 
 For its wound can find no balm. 
 Pity, oh Thou tender Shepherd ! 
 
 Guide me — gently lead aright — 
 To the land of crystal waters, 
 
 Where Thy presence is its light ! 
 
 Chorus — Unloved and alone, &c. 
 
83 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Father, I no longer murmur 
 
 While I linger near thy grave ) 
 Though my sails are torn and tattered, 
 
 Forth I launch upon the wave. 
 All alone, the billows breasting, 
 
 Help I crave, the way is dark — 
 There will come a time of resting, 
 
 Harbor for my little barque. 
 
 Chorus — Unloved and alone, &c. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 89 
 
 Slowly and sadly we laid her to rest, 
 Folding her snowy shroud light on her breast ; 
 Bright seemed her brow as an angel's, and fair 
 Were the soft ringlets still clustering there. 
 Her blue eyes, wide open, so life-like did seem, 
 A moment I fancied her dying a dream ; 
 But then the reality burst on my brain — 
 I turned from my child to my sorrow again. 
 We gave a last look to her flower-strewn pall, 
 To her, the most beautiful flower of all ; 
 We made her a grave in our cold northern home, 
 And childless, in sunnier climes now we roam. 
 In memory still we fondly adore her, 
 Our beautiful babe ; our peeress Cleora J 
 
90 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Ufa §nxni 
 
 AN INCIDENT OP REAL LIFE. 
 
 Oh ! let me look upon that face ! 
 
 Shut not the coffin lid ! 
 That boyish brow, so full of grace, 
 
 Will evermore be hid. 
 
 Ah ! is this not some horrid dream — 
 Some nightmare ? Doth my brain 
 
 Burn now with frenzy's lurid fires ? 
 Delusive hope ! How vain ! 
 
 My boy, my only boy ! to think 
 
 How, ever since the day 
 God gave thy little tender form 
 
 To cheer thy mother's way, 
 
 So gently have I handled thee, 
 Have soothed thy every pain ; 
 
 To keep my child from suffering, 
 Have racked my weary brain. 
 
 Yes, through the long, hot summer's day 
 I toiled and prayed, while Hope 
 
 Held out her white hands, whispering 
 I would not always grope 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 91 
 
 In darkness, but the day would come 
 
 When life would pulse again 
 In these poor veins, and I look up, 
 
 Nor dread the face of men. 
 
 For oh ! it was not always thus ) 
 
 Once Lenard was so good 
 And noble, brave and honest ! 
 
 'Gainst evil long withstood, 
 
 Till lured by sparkling wine, to sip 
 
 Its poison to the dreg $ 
 And Edwie oft, with quivering lip, 
 
 Would food and fuel beg. 
 
 Lady, thy tears are falling fast ; 
 
 Strong man, thy head is bowed, 
 As pityingly you look upon 
 
 My darling in his shroud. 
 
 This summer, since wee Eva came 
 
 To bless my cheerless life, 
 I tried to act so none could blame, 
 
 And be a better wife. 
 
 And Edwie was so proud of her, 
 And smiling, often kissed her, 
 
 Saying, in tones so full of love, 
 " From heaven came little sister." 
 
 Through rain and sunshine, hail and snow, 
 We trudged for wood and water, 
 
92 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 And up the long steep hills I bore 
 My boy, and baby-daughter. 
 
 For he was weak and pale from want j 
 His dark eyes oft did glisten, 
 
 While clutched by hunger, spectre gaunt, 
 For a father's voice would listen. 
 
 I've seen him wait with bated breath 
 "While that loud step drew nearer 
 
 And every hour until his death 
 My brave sweet boy grew dearer. 
 
 So, through life's rough and stony way, 
 We all were linked together ; 
 
 Together braved the howling storm, 
 The blast and wintry weather. 
 
 But last night, as I started forth, 
 
 It was so cold outside — 
 The keen wind blowing from the north, 
 
 And lowering cloud beside — ■ 
 
 I left my precious ones, to face 
 The dark and threatening storm, 
 
 With nothing but this threadbare shawl 
 To shield my tottering form. 
 
 I did not dream, God ! the fate 
 
 Of him, my noble one ; 
 Saddest of all sad words, u Too late ! " 
 
 Alas ! I am undone ! 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 93 
 
 I bade him close the door, and keep 
 
 The whistling tempest out, 
 And watch his little sister creep 
 
 Around, and all about. 
 
 I hastened on — I almost ran — 
 
 My pail of water drew, 
 And homeward quickly turned again : 
 
 My bare feet almost flew, 
 
 As on the night-air, shrill and wild, 
 
 I heard a childish cry, 
 And soon in flames I saw my child, 
 
 And knew that he must die. 
 
 sir ! but let me, let me look 
 On that sweet face again, 
 
 So angel-like ! not strange God took 
 My darling from his pain. 
 
 No ! do not take my baby girl ! 
 
 Lady, I'd give her thee — 
 My wildwood flower ! my precious pearl ! 
 
 What else can comfort me ? 
 
 1 know she would be cherished well j 
 Her wants you would supply ; 
 
 But none can like a mother feel, 
 None do so well as I. 
 
94 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 No ! do not ask my baby ! Now, 
 
 Life hath no joy for me. 
 Oh Grave ! place cold clods on my brow, 
 
 And end this misery ! 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 95 
 
 The morning sun is brightly shining, 
 
 Gaily sing the little birds y 
 The clouds have turned their silvery lining — 
 
 Life — I really can't find words ! 
 
 Nature all is full of beauty, 
 
 Blended coloring, rich and warm, 
 * And a pair of eyes keep turning 
 To the corner, for thy form. 
 
 Kisses have enwrapped the letter — 
 
 Messenger of glorious news. 
 None e'er brought me tidings sweeter ; 
 
 Now laugh at me, if you choose. 
 
 Swiftly now the day is passing, 
 And, in spite of you, gay scorner, 
 
 Eager eyes are ever watching 
 For thy form around the corner. 
 
 Twilight shades are dimly gathering, 
 
 Eve is shedding tears of clew; 
 Deeper shadows gather o'er me, 
 
 And I feel like weeping too. 
 
 Now they're coming, for I feel them 
 Trickling down my cheeks so warm ; 
 
SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Tearful eyes are ever turning 
 To the corner, for thy form. 
 
 The moon rides in her silvery chariot, 
 
 Xightly stars are peeping out. 
 All are punctual to duty • 
 
 Oh ! what can you be about ? 
 
 TVell ! I'm almost out of patience ! 
 
 Now I fear some cruel harm, 
 And with earnest eye- I'm watching 
 
 At the corner, for thy form. 
 
 Xone can know the bitter feeling 
 But the grievous pain hath borne. 
 
 When ail La. ; : — a a: ' ' Li- . -t-t-p ! — - 
 Xow all sighs and tears have flown. 
 
 I've forgiven thee already ! 
 
 Here I go to bathe my face ; 
 Let a:-: bat a'.aast tats rataie — 
 
 And my hair is out of place. 
 
 Eeady now. I take my station 
 
 At the door, free from alarm ; 
 The brightest eyes in all creation 
 
 Now are resting on thy form. 
 
 My cup of bliss is overflowing, 
 Tones of love fall on my ear, 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 97 
 
 My heart with fervent joy is glowing, 
 Wholly destitute of fear. 
 
 I am happy, all too happy ! 
 
 Now I feel thy kisses warm; 
 Loving arms have closely folded 
 
 Me in fondness to thy form. 
 
93 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Stat pttte mxA §o. 
 
 There's nothing in life more important, 
 
 Oft causing the bitterest woe, 
 When, too, it might be averted 
 
 By saying that simple word, No ! 
 
 Oh ! parents, be wise in your training 
 The minds God has given below ) 
 
 Be sure, when occasion requires it, 
 To answer decidedly, No ! 
 
 And to you, tender, blooming young maiden, 
 
 I would say, before farther I go, 
 Say Yes, if the " old folks " are willing ; 
 
 And if they are not, tell him No. 
 
 When that gallant young fellow comes wooing, 
 
 With passionate ardor aglow, 
 Just find out what course he's pursuing, 
 
 And if he ain't right, tell him No. 
 
 If to Bacchus's shrine he's devoted, 
 And to midnight carousals will go, 
 
 Just hold up your head, my proud beauty, 
 And scornfully answer him No ! 
 
 Young man, let me warn and beseech you, 
 Ere to ruin you speedily go, 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 99 
 
 Turn your back on the base, smiling tempter, 
 And nobly hurl back a firm No ! 
 
 Look not on the wine in its beauty, 
 
 While sparkling and bright in its glow ; 
 
 Touch not the dread cup ! — 'tis thy duty — 
 And to every offer, say No ! 
 
100 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 SONG AND CHORUS. 
 
 Under the grape- vine, darling, 
 
 Where purple clusters hung, 
 You gave me the sweetest answer 
 
 Ere framed by human tongue. 
 The ripple of its echo 
 
 Has rang far down the way 
 Of life's glad, golden summer — 
 
 Turned darkness into day. 
 chorus : 
 
 Alice ! sweet, sweet Alice ! 
 Can I forget the day 
 
 1 told you that I loved you ? 
 Pure-hearted Alice Gray. 
 
 Under the grape-vine, darling, 
 
 Tour white hand touched my own, 
 Sending a tremor through me, 
 
 Like some grand music tone. 
 It fluttered in my broad palm, 
 
 A tiny dove-like thing, 
 While tender eyes gazed fondly 
 
 On our betrothal ring. 
 
 Chorus — Alice ! &c. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 101 
 
 Under the grape-vine, darling, 
 
 Your beauteous golden head 
 I drew to my throbbing bosom, 
 
 And loving words were said, 
 Whose melody will ever 
 
 Send a sweet and mellow chime 
 Far down in the bright forever, 
 
 Past the boundary of time. 
 
 Chorus — Alice ! &c. 
 
 Ah ! never, my own fond darling, 
 
 Can I forget the day 
 When I told you that I loved you, 
 
 My brown-eyed Alice Gray. 
 Your little hand, my darling, 
 
 Is chilled by death, and now 
 The cold clods of the valley 
 
 Lie on your snowy brow. 
 
 Chorus — Alice ! &c. 
 
 Your golden head will never 
 
 Lie on my breast again ; 
 You're free from earthly sorrow, 
 
 Free from all grief and pain. 
 God's will be done, lost darling ! 
 
 " He cloeth all "things well." 
 We'll meet in climes celestial, 
 
 Heaven's sweetest songs to swell. 
 
 Chorus — Alice ! &c. 
 
102 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 %xl §M«al to t\u <&vmp. 
 
 Brothers ! is it not more than passing strange 
 
 That we, the members of the Grange, 
 
 Think, talk and plan — 'tis very strange indeed — 
 And yet in naught we undertake succeed ? 
 
 For months we've gravely met. What have we done ? 
 Nothing accomplished 7 neath the blessed sun ! 
 Our breath is spent in vain ; it really seems 
 All ends in fitful, visionary dreams. 
 
 Air-castles ! It is wonderful to me 
 How we from nothing can expect to see 
 Grange stores, guano factories, proudly rise, 
 Towering in grandeur to these southern skies. 
 
 Brothers ! let's prove that we are men — are men ! 
 The task is ours, 1 say it o'er again , 
 Let every lip drink from one common cup, 
 And by our manhood build our country up. 
 
 In union there is strength F Then, side by side, 
 We'll wait the coming of the fearful tide ; 
 With hand in hand we'll stand by one another, 
 And prove to all we something mean by " brother." 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 103 
 
 To us — the bone and sinew of our land ; 
 To us — a brave, determined little band ; 
 To us — there can be no such word as fail 5 
 Let every hand be firm, let no heart quail. 
 
 Succeed ! We can, we must, we will ! 
 Each shoulder to the wheel, come good, come ill ! 
 We are all birds of the same stripe and feather. 
 Eesolve, this Grange shall live — or die together ! 
 
104 
 
 8CJ ITEMED LEA TE>. 
 
 Cities to One Cove, 
 
 Daylight waneth — sunset's gleaming 
 
 Golden bright o'er hill and tree ; 
 Soon the starlight's gentle beaming 
 
 Will rest lovingly on me. 
 My sad heart goes ont in sighing, 
 
 And a elond is on my brow ; 
 Tell me. tell me truly, darling, 
 
 Do you lore me any now ? 
 
 Once my form was slight and airy, 
 
 And my cheek bloomed as the rose j 
 With a step light as a fairy. 
 
 As it through the wildwood goes : 
 Xone of life's perplexing troubles 
 
 To my happy heart had come - T 
 Blowing, childlike, life's gay bubbles, 
 
 Merry as the wild bee's hum. 
 
 Time has many changes brought me, 
 
 But this heart, so warm and true, 
 Never, since the hour you sought me, 
 
 Beat for any one but you. 
 Time has rudely snatched the beauty, 
 
 Though but little I could claim ; 
 I am changed in all things, darling ; 
 
 Changed — except in heart the same. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 105 
 
 Eyes there are with care ne'er laden, 
 
 Mine are dim with sorrow's tears ; 
 And no longer sylph-like maiden, 
 
 As I was in other years. 
 Does your heart beat just as warmly 
 
 As when first you breathed love's vow 1 
 Tell me, tell me truly, darling — 
 
 Do you love me any now ? 
 
106 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Farewell ! And must I say farewell to thee, 
 And sec thee laid forever from my sight ? 
 
 Will not my old heart burst with agony — 
 Thou, who hast been of all my life its light ? 
 
 The staff of my old age, to lean upon 
 
 When silvered locks and tottering steps were come 5 
 My pride, my hope, my staff, my first-born son ! 
 
 Would I could go with thee to thy last home ! 
 
 How oft, in childhood's sportive hour, at eve, 
 Fve watched thee with a father's glowing pride 5 
 
 Nor for another wouldst thou ever leave 
 
 Thy favorite place by thy loved father's side. 
 
 For oh ! it seems, since I am sore bereft, 
 
 That never father had a son so true ! 
 Thank God, I have three brave boys left ; 
 
 But ah ! my first-born, none can be like you. 
 
 To see thee in thy manly beauty lie 
 Asleep with holy calm upon thy brow, 
 
 Free from life's conflicts and its cares, I sigh, 
 And ? neath the strick'ning rod I humbly bow. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 107 
 
 Oh, agonizing thought ! It drives me wild ! 
 
 By thy own hand the cruel deed was done. 
 How couldst thou stab thy father so, my child ? 
 
 Would God that I had died for thee, my son ! 
 
 No ! Thou wast not thyself, my noble boy ! 
 
 A moment, frenzied madness to thee came. 
 Thank God, my mind doth this sweet thought employ — 
 
 Thyself thou wast not, and we cannot blame. 
 
 Could I have been beside thee, but one word 
 
 From thy old father would have stayed thy hand ; 
 
 For in delirium, if my voice was heard, 
 My slightest wish to thee was a command. 
 
 These frail and tender blossoms need thy care ; 
 
 Who will protect them now, since thy strong arm 
 Lies pulseless on thy breast ? Oh hear my prayer ! 
 
 Great Heavenly Father, keep them from all harm ! 
 
 Those sacred words traced by thy dying hand 
 Come like sweet incense, and my heart beguiles 
 
 Of anguish : " God hath said thou shalt be saved," 
 And thou art basking in a Saviour's smiles. 
 
 With thy own angel Lou, thy dark-haired bride, 
 Thou art so happy now, so free from woe ; 
 
 For thou didst love her so, that, when she died, 
 Thy noble mind was shattered by the blow ! 
 
108 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Let me but once again look on that brow. 
 
 And is that great, great heart forever still ? 
 That loved voice silent — hushed its music now ? 
 
 Oh ! hath this agony no power to kill ? 
 
 Thou art at rest forever, noble heart ! 
 
 Too pure thou wast for earthland, cold and drear. 
 In heavenly joys at last thou hast a part 5 
 
 Then why do our fond hearts long for thee here ? 
 
 Farewell ! A lump of senseless clay thou art. 
 
 I will not think of thee as in the grave, 
 But in the bright beyond 5 in endless day 
 
 Thy spirit soars, my boy, so good and brave ! 
 
 To heaven I lift my dim and weary eyes. 
 
 Hope points the way. I long for wings to soar 
 To that blest land, far, far beyond the skies, 
 
 Where dire disease and death can come no more. 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 109 
 
 TO A YOUNG BACHELOR, WHO SAID HE HAD WRITTEN A 
 POEM ON " HOME." 
 
 A Bachelors Sanctum Sanctorum !" 
 
 Come tell me ; dear Claude, what it is ; 
 Where nothing around or before them 
 
 Speaks either of comfort or bliss. 
 
 What know you of home and its pleasures, 
 
 In your lonely and desolate cell ? 
 And what are they worth — all your treasures ? 
 
 I wish any bachelor would tell. 
 
 Just wait a few years, my clear brother, 
 Till you sit not alone by your hearth, 
 
 While you hear the sweet voice of another — 
 Then see what your home will be worth. 
 
 Only wait till the firelight gleaming 
 
 Falls brightly on rich raven hair, 
 And to gaze in those dark eyes were seeming 
 
 To see what the angels are. 
 
 Then HI list to your poem with pleasure) 
 
 While will sit by and smile, 
 
 As I tell of your bachelor effort, 
 
 And rake you, old fellow, in style f 
 
110 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Alice, lovely flower ! thou art gone 
 To climes where only rare exotics bloom, 
 
 Snatched by the tyrant death, in life's bright mora, 
 And our fond hearts are filled with deepest gloom. 
 
 Like the sweet violet in its mossy bed, 
 
 Thine was a quiet, peaceful, holy life, 
 Fragrant and pure ; but, Alice, thou art dead ! 
 
 Forever done with sorrow, pain and strife. 
 
 And wilt thou come no more, darling one, 
 
 With bright and winning smile to cheer sad hearts ? 
 
 Oh ! can it be thou art forever gone ? 
 What comfort this sweet hallowed thought imparts : 
 
 We will not see thee here again on earth ; . 
 
 Thy voice, so full of melody, is still ; 
 An angel now, of pure celestial birth ; 
 
 And though we're desolate, it is God's will! 
 
 The Saviour saw thee in thy guilelessness, 
 
 So full of grace and angel purity, 
 And seeking to fill up thy cup of happiness, 
 
 In making up His jewels, He had need of thee. 
 
 Farewell, sweet Alice ! Oft will memory, 
 
 As on the past I sweetly, sadly dwell, 
 Bring back thy graces and thy charms to me. 
 
 Lovely young friend, a last, a long farewell ! 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. Ill 
 
 Ache, ache, ache ! 
 By fever wildly fed. 
 
 Ache, ache, ache ! 
 With brain and heart like lead. 
 While the touch of velvet fingers 
 On my throbbing brow still lingers, 
 So soft and cool, and soothing all my pain. 
 
 Break, break, break ! 
 Poor lonely heart, and rest. 
 
 Break, break, break ! 
 But hush ! for God knows best. 
 Those hands, no longer seeking, 
 That voice, no longer speaking, 
 To give my spirit comfort once again. 
 
 Hush, hush, hush ! 
 My poor heart's sad repining. 
 
 Hush, hush, hush ! 
 The clouds have silvery lining ) 
 But our weak human eyes can see 
 Only the pain and misery ; 
 And we are always looking for the rain. 
 
112 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Wt m M imt* 
 
 We are but four. The others sleep 
 
 Beneath the grassy sod ; 
 Let us the tie that binds us keep 
 
 Sacred — next heaven and God. 
 
 We are but four. Ah ! nevermore 
 May discord come between ; 
 
 But may we in affection grow, 
 And on each other lean. 
 
 If joy , prosperity and peace, 
 Our pathway bless through life, 
 
 We'll glory in each other's joy, 
 And share each other's strife. 
 
 And when afflictions sharp, severe, 
 Our anxious hearts have riven, 
 
 Oh ! let them render still more clear 
 The loved ones spared by Heaven. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 113 
 
 Dear Kosa, I am sad to-night ; 
 
 Alone ! yes, all alone ! 
 The fire-light gleams not half so bright 
 
 When all the loved are gone. 
 
 Fve seen them leave me one by one, 
 
 Like evanescent joys ; 
 All, all are fled ! the ringing step, 
 
 And sweet, melodious voice. 
 
 And there are thoughts that wing their way 
 
 Into my saddened soul 5 
 And of the past, the joyous past, 
 
 They wildly surge and roll, 
 
 When we were happy, side by side, 
 
 Beneath a father's care. 
 Where are those halcyon days of yore, 
 
 Where are those pleasures ? — where ? 
 
 Dear sister, still, in fancy, we 
 
 Together wildly roam 
 Where little squirrels play'd hide and seek, 
 In the grand old woods at home. 
 
114 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 That home, where beds of fragrant flowers 
 
 Made redolent the air ; 
 That home, where music, books and birds, 
 
 Rendered us happy there ; 
 
 The parlor, where the mellow lamp 
 
 Shed softened light around, 
 While hearts whose ardor knew no damp, 
 
 Beat with a light rebound ; 
 
 That sacred chamber, where the loved 
 
 Peacefully dying lay — 
 Where their pure spirits burst their bonds, 
 
 And walked the golden way — 
 
 Has passed to strangers. No loved voice 
 
 Calls us to evening prayer. 
 The place now knoweth us no more ) 
 
 7 Tis desolation there. 
 
 My head droops low upon my breast, 
 My ear shuts out each sound, 
 
 And fearful for my waking, lest 
 All will be dark around. 
 
 Sweet memories come thronging back 
 
 Into my heart to-night. 
 Do you remember, darling child, 
 
 All that made home so bright ? 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. ' 115 
 
 Child-sister, now your tearful eyes 
 
 Look lovingly in mine ) 
 Your chubby hands and dimpled arms 
 
 Around my neck entwine, 
 
 And downy cheek, close to me prest, 
 
 In your own childish way 5 
 They always said I loved you best. 
 
 " The baby/ 7 I would say, 
 
 And lift you to your favorite seat, 
 
 Your prattling tongue to hear 5 
 Then some sweet story would repeat, 
 
 Of our lost mother dear. 
 
 But this is past ; and here to-night 
 
 Fm sitting all alone ! 
 No melody is in my heart, 
 
 No music in my tone 5 
 
 And there are thoughts that wind their way 
 
 Into my troubled soul, 
 And of the past — the bitter past — 
 
 They wildly surge and roll. 
 
 And though they tell me you have found 
 
 A friend so kind and true, 
 Of all sad thoughts that fill my brain, 
 
 The saddest are of you. 
 
116 
 
 SCATTERED LEA VES. 
 
 immW ! 
 
 Farewell ! Farewell ! And must I now control 
 The torrent of my fierce and burning love 1 
 
 Oh ! I have Tried with all my heart and soul 
 To quench its fury — every trace remove. 
 
 This hopeless love how fondly have I cherished, 
 Since it hath been no sin to worship thee ; 
 
 The love I thought for years had surely perished ; 
 Burst forth in all its wild intensity. 
 
 Farewell ! Farewell ! Yes, I will once again 
 Strive to crush out this fierce, consuming love. 
 
 A few short months I reveled in its pain — 
 
 For hopeless love naught else but pain can prove. 
 
 Farewell ! Farewell ! These are my last, last tears ; 
 
 The millions I have shed are naught to thee ; 
 A weary battle-ground for years and years 
 
 My heart has been — yes, fighting to be free. 
 
 Hard have I fought with this my only love 5 
 
 Fought till in agony it dying were. 
 Although for years we have together strove, 
 
 At last 'tis slain — and I am conqueror ! 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 117 
 
 So, sadly, reverently, my twice dead love 
 I put away — as we consign our dead 
 
 Unto a peaceful tomb, where naught can move 
 The passions, which are henceforth ever fled. 
 
 With one fond, tender look I turn away, 
 Pressing a last, last kiss upon its brow. 
 
 Lie there, belov'd, till resurrection day, 
 
 When all will brightness be where clouds are now. 
 
118 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 There was a time thine eyes with trust 
 
 Gazed lovingly in mine ; 
 But thou art changed. Perhaps 'tis just, 
 
 That I in sadness pine. 
 
 ? Tis strange that noble heart of thine 
 Could from me thus be riven j 
 
 And that pure love, which once was mine, 
 To strangers all begiven ! 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 119 
 
 %mtx\tt. 
 
 FRAGMENTS OF AN UNWRITTEN LIFE. 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 Yes, Hubert, she is thine ! Let it not throw 
 A blight upon thy happiness, to know 
 How fondly I have loved her. Cease thy fears ) 
 That love is sacred. Yes, for years and years, 
 Since she was but a gladsome, joyous child, 
 Fve cherished the fond hope, so vain and wild, 
 That one day, bless'd with fair Beatrice' love, 
 My aimless life might yet a blessing prove. 
 
 I might have known, with your bright laughing face 
 And gentle ways, yourself would win the place 
 I coveted so long. How could I be so blind, 
 And of the fruit but bitter ashes find ? 
 For I was always grave, and, it appears, 
 Too stern and cold, and old beyond my years ) 
 And no one dreamed volcanic fires below 
 Threatened, in unguarded moments, to o'erflow. 
 
 I guarded well my secret, gave no sign. 
 
 By which dear Beatrice could my heart divine. 
 
 But this is past 5 so, brother, let it rest. 
 
 Next to sweet Beatrice, I have loved thee best. 
 
1-JO 
 
 8 CA TILLED L LA VJB& 
 
 If thou art happy, oh ! I would not cast 
 One shadow on thy bright and joyous past. 
 I will reproach thee not : no word of blame 
 Escapes my lips ; to me thou art the same. 
 
 Cherish and love her. Hubert. For thy sake 
 I will resign her. though this heart should break ; 
 Will tear, though it should rend the thing apart. 
 Her blessed image from my writhing heart. 
 
 Hubert ! Hubert ! what, oh what, if thou 
 Hadst loved and been unloved, as I am now f 
 Had-t wooed, and seen the prize another claim. 
 And lived to call her by another's name ? 
 
 Then eould'st thou dream the torture I endure : 
 
 The gnawing pain, for which earth hath no cure. 
 
 Alone ! alone ! Always to be alone, 
 
 Unloved, unblest ! this the heart's bitter moan. 
 
 Exiled from home ! for here I cannot stay ; 
 
 No hope or wish for heaven : no heart to pray ! 
 
 For what were earth or heaven, without her peerless love ? 
 
 But my undying love for her 111 prove. 
 
 Tea. by our gentle mother, on whose knee 
 TVe prattled forth our words of boyish glee : 
 Tea, by our spotless innocency then, 
 
 1 vow to you, that ne'er — no, ne'er again. 
 Tour true heart need be racked by jealous fears ; 
 For I accept my fate for future years — 
 
 My fate of sadness, loneliness and tears 
 
POEMS OF MBS, LEACH. 
 
 121 
 
 Brother, farewell ! 'Tis cruel thus to speak, 
 And see those big tears roll adown thy cheek • 
 Near her loved side I cannot, must not stay, 
 Once more to hear her voice, and then away ! 
 No power on earth this agony can quell, 
 Brother, Beatrice, Love and Life — farewell ! 
 
 PART SECOND, 
 
 Brother, your hand ! How I have longed to feel 
 Once more its cordial grasp ! I am not steel ! 
 Start not • 'tis not a phantom ; it is I ! 
 Cain-like, I death have sought, but could not die. 
 So when, in my lone exile, tidings flew 
 That thou must leave Beatrice and thy boy too, 
 To face the enemy, I could not sleep. 
 Oh ! deem it not unmanly thus to weep. 
 
 'Tis true then, Hubert, thou away must go ; 
 And yet* to taunt thee, brother, jn thy woe 
 I come not • for I know 'twill surely break 
 Beatrice' loving heart. For her sweet sake 
 Oh ! let me, let me, Hubert, take thy place, 
 And bring back sunshine to her shadowed face. 
 For oh ! it would be very sweet to know, 
 For me one sigh would heave, one tear would flow 
 
 From those dear eyes, where, years agone, I'd see 
 Naught else but brightest smiles continually. 
 Think it not strange • to save that bosom pain, 
 Death would be sweet, could I die o'er again. 
 
122 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Start not to view my pale and haggard cheek ; 
 Of the sad buried past we will not speak ; 
 These silvered locks my agony will tell, 
 TThen lips are mute ; brother, farewell, farewell ! 
 Oh ! do not sob and cling unto me so, 
 Dear Hubert, you unman me ! let me go ! 
 
 PABT TRIED. 
 
 ? Twas summer. Glorious, golden time — 
 Delicious, dreamy, balmy June ) 
 
 Birch, furze and creeping eglantine 
 Made twilight of the hottest noon. 
 
 The sun's great orb burst forth above 
 The dim horizon's checkering light, 
 
 Turning the gnarled old oaks to gold, 
 And making all things wondrous bright. 
 
 The tiny, fragrant woodland flowers, 
 Heavy with glittering dew, were bent, 
 
 Xor raised a wreath-mist, by its power 
 To veil the glowing firmament. 
 
 Long sylvan av'nues, miles away, 
 Through forest scenery wild and rare 
 
 Were sweeping, and the songsters gay 
 Made music on the morning air. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH* 
 
 123 
 
 Forth from the forest's umbrage came 
 A solitary horseman. Just had Fame 
 Heaped brightest laurels on his noble brow. 
 What, what to him were earthly honors now ? 
 
 A gray-clad, Southern soldier — pale, blood-stained, 
 His dripping steed with no nerve left unstrained. 
 Ere morning's dawn, with struggling, labored breath, 
 They started on this fearful race with Death. 
 
 The red blood trickled from the gaping wound ) 
 Still horse and rider seemed to spurn the ground. 
 With wide dilating nostrils and foam-covered sides 
 The noble, faithful steed, makes his last glorious strides. 
 
 Just as behind the distant hill-tops sinks the sun, 
 He makes one last, last effort, and the goal is won. 
 Once more at home — that childhood's home so sweet — 
 The dripping steed falls down at Beatrice' feet. 
 
 One loving word — one tender, deep-drawn sigh — 
 Brother, Beatrice, I've come home to die ! 
 The struggle's o'er ! — Closed are those weary eyes, 
 Ceased that fond heart's pulsation — cold he lies ! 
 Forever done, noble one, with earthly strife, 
 At last thou art at 'rest ! Such, such is life ! 
 
124 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 &twmv fgm to f m p*. 
 
 Another less to love rae, another less to weep 
 
 When my weary heart is burdened down with care ; 
 
 Another less to linger near to soothe my grief so deep ) 
 Another less to kneel with me in prayer. 
 
 Another less to clasp my hand and press my burning 
 brow, 
 
 To whisper words of music in my ear ; 
 Another less to cheer me when I am lonely now, 
 And shed in sympathy the silent tear. 
 
 And when pain's furnace burns within, and fever racks 
 my frame, 
 
 Another less to sit beside my bed, 
 And in lowest tones of love to gently breathe my name ; 
 
 Another less — for little Robbie's dead ! 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 125 
 
 ®* Mi Pttt* gtfleffl. 
 
 Asleep on thy tear-stained pillow, 
 
 My darling, so happy and bright ; 
 What grief, with its darkening billow, 
 
 Has swept o'er thy heart-strings to-night ? 
 
 All day has thy little tongue's prattle 
 
 Made sweetest of music for me, 
 As, busy with marbles and rattle, 
 
 You frolicked in innocent glee. 
 
 Your little white fingers were ever 
 
 In mischief, save once on my hair 
 I felt their light touch, rougher never 
 
 In leaving caresses there. 
 
 So happy and blithesome, my darling, 
 What has troubled thy brave little heart ! 
 
 From the depths of that clear crystal fountain, 
 What has caused those few tear-drops to start ? 
 
 So buoyant, so winsome and loving, 
 
 From morn till the setting of sun ; 
 Why those tears on thy soft cheek, my darling ? 
 
 My poor little fatherless one ! 
 
126 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Thou ! who the promise hast given, 
 
 The Father of orphans to be, 
 Look down from Thy great throne in heaven, 
 
 For lone and defenceless are we. 
 
 O'er life's thorny pathway Thoirlt guide him, 
 While on earthland his tiny feet stray ; 
 
 In Thy great heart of hearts wilt Thou hide him, 
 And wipe eveiy tear-drop away. 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 127 
 
 Ifttgt Jtm tit* (totfwx M&t. 
 
 Just on the other side they wait, 
 
 And oft I hear their calls, 
 Inside of heaven's golden gate, 
 
 Its pearl and jasper walls. 
 
 What though the way be rough and dark? 
 
 I fear no wind or tide ; 
 For loved ones wait my little barque, 
 
 Just on the other side. 
 
SCATTERED LEAVES, 
 
 THOUGHTS OX SEEING FUKGURSONS CARTOON 
 
 OF 
 
 Of (Gubernatorial |Uce, 
 
 WEITTEX XOTEKBER 2. 1ST6. 
 
 Yes. blow your horn, Billy, and rally your crew — 
 
 Scalawags, carpet-baggers — all you can do. 
 
 Then blow up your flat-headed, blubber-lipped " niggers ; 11 
 
 You're all of you cutting most elegant u riggers/ 7 
 
 In attempting to head him, brave Zebulon Vance ! 
 
 You're a parcel of ninnies — there's not the least chance. 
 
 He is so tar ahead, I declare, on my soul. 
 
 He couldn't be touched with a forty-foot pole ; 
 
 So grandly and proudly he keeps on his way. 
 
 Straight forward, not once from the right will he sway. 
 
 Success crown his efforts ; long live his renown, 
 
 Who has labored so hard to put tyranny down. 
 
 Yes, go it ! brave Zebulon ! you are 'most there ! 
 
 Hail, hail to the Gubernatorial chair ! 
 
 You are leaving poor Settle so far, far behind, 
 
 With his load of corruption ! Xow. Vance, is that kind ? 
 
 And that awful hard knot he can never undo, 
 
 Which ties him so fast to that stake in Peru. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 1-29 
 
 Yes ! blow your horn, Billy ! Your radical crew 
 Depend just as much on that horn as on you. 
 Blow, till your eyeballs pop out of their sockets ; 
 Grin, Ike ; with your roguish hand stuffed in your pockets ; 
 And spur away, African ! " cuss ? em, Josiah V 7 
 Never pause till they taste of the sulphurous fire. 
 And pull, Settle, pull, till it's out by the roots ! 
 Away to your doom ! Hurrah ! Go it, boots ! 
 
 Too late, now, Aunt Abby ; advice he'll not heed; 
 He's on the broad road, at a John Gilpin speed. 
 Ere. long, amid cheers, and the cannon's loud boom, 
 They will all be consigned to a Radical tomb. 
 Then farewell high taxes, deception and theft ; 
 They've stolen their thousands, but little is left. 
 The dark clouds now lowering will soon fade away, 
 Where night has been brooding 'twill shine as the day. 
 The rogues kicked from office, we'll see, hand in hand, 
 Peace, Plenty and Justice abroad in the land ; 
 Our right noble Governor, generous and bold, 
 Will mete out sheer justice to young and to old ; 
 The learned and the rich, the ignorant and poor, 
 In him find a friend, and a wide-open door. 
 Let his name be emblazoned in letters of gold, 
 And deep in the hearts of every household. 
 Brave champion of Liberty ! ever his lance 
 Has been drawn for the right, brave Zebulon Vance ! 
 
130 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Wnfler tlte 
 
 Higher and higher the snow-drifts heap, 
 Hiding away the low garden wall, 
 
 Robing the trees and flowers asleep, 
 And the vine on the columns tall. 
 
 All day long I have watched them fall, 
 Glistening snow-flakes, pure and white, 
 
 Covering gently with snowy pall 
 
 That grave, with touch loving and light. 
 
 Under the snow so deep he lies, 
 
 Buried away from my longing sight ; 
 
 Lustreless now are those love-lit eyes, 
 And life is one long starless night. 
 
 All day long, with tear-dimmed eyes, 
 I've peered in the heavy, leaden clouds ; 
 
 But the gloom of these dull December skies, 
 Is naught to that which my heart enshrouds. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 131 
 
 Fve passed through many a changing scene 
 Since my hand was clasped in thine 5 
 
 Since I felt the thrill of thy soft dark eye, 
 As it fondly gazed in mine. 
 
 Fve heard the joyous breathe thy name, 
 
 But I acted well my part • 
 They dreamed not 'neath the gladsome smile 
 
 I wore a breaking heart. 
 
 And when the unbidden tear would flow, 
 
 So quickly I dashed it away, 
 They caught but a glimpse of the heartless smile, 
 
 And deemed me as happy as they. 
 
 I met thee once more — at the bridal — 
 
 Again I was close to thy side, 
 ' And heard thee speak in soft, low tones, 
 To the gay and beauteous bride. 
 
 'Twas there they told me another claimed 
 
 The heart which once I knew ; 
 They little dreamed I loved thee still 
 
 With deep devotion true. 
 
 And I may never meet thee more ! — 
 
 'Twere best we ne'er had met, . 
 Since our dream of love so soon was o'er, 
 Arid the heart can ne'er forget ! * 
 
133 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Why don't I get a letter ? 
 
 She promised she would write — 
 The tantalizing creature ! 
 
 I'll slight her, out of spite. 
 
 Here I have been half crazy 
 For ten o'clock to come ; 
 
 And now I'm disappointed. 
 
 I tell you what, she's " some ! 79 
 
 I hardly think she'd trifle, 
 
 Or like another beau ; 
 I'd shoot Mm with my rifle, 
 
 And let the coquette go. 
 
 I'll throw aside this trouble, 
 
 Though hard the task ; no doubt 
 
 There is " as good fish in the sea 
 As ever were caught out." 
 
 There's Betty, Lou, and Liza ; 
 
 Oh yes, a real host ! 
 But, while I should despise her, 
 
 I love that girl the most. 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 133 
 
 Fve turned my papers and my books, 
 
 In nothing interest find ; 
 For blue eyes cast such killing looks 
 
 Of coldness, undefined. 
 
 And golden locks and fingers white 
 
 Keep dancing o'er the pages 5 
 Oh dear ! it seems since Monday night 
 
 I've lived ten thousand ages ! 
 
 It is a shame to serve me so ! 
 
 Suspense alone will end me. 
 Fate seems — but hark ! a voice below ! — 
 
 A letter ! Saints defend me ! 
 
 Ecstatic joy, unbounded bliss, 
 
 To read her lines once more. 
 I feast upon them ! happiness 
 
 Was never felt before. 
 
 Zena, darling ! all my doubts 
 And fears you'll never know ; 
 This moment's weight of happiness 
 More than repays my woe. 
 
134 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 A PARODY. 
 
 Respectfully inscribed to a gentleman wTio entertained peculiar fond- 
 ness for this simple diet 
 
 When I list to the praises, so light in my eyes, 
 Well lavished by man on rich custards and pies, 
 Sometimes I am tempted to tell them to hush, 
 As I think of my bowl of molasses and mush. 
 
 When great ones of earth spout around with a noise, 
 Brag loudly of all a rich man enjoys, 
 Of dainties and wines, served in costliest glasses, 
 I feel I am blessed with my mush and molasses. 
 
 I let them boast on, and think all the while 
 
 I list, with an almost contemptuous smile, 
 
 As they speak of their viands, that money is " flush," 
 
 I would have nothing more than molasses and mush. 
 
 Then hear me, ye rich ones, ye poor ones of earth ; 
 My advice to all those of high station and birth — 
 To those of all ages, all sizes, and classes, 
 Is — feast all your lives on mush and molasses ! 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 135 
 
 WRITTEN AFTER READING A POEM CALLED " MY NEIGHBOR'S 
 BABY." 
 
 Nurse, take them ! these dear little garments, so soft 7 
 Embroidered so richly and covered with lace ; 
 
 And the cunning and dainty white hood, which has oft 
 Encircled his beautiful, fair boyish face. 
 
 They have laid my own darling down sweetly to sleep ; 
 
 But the grave is so dark, and so cheerless and cold, 
 In sorrow and loneliness ever I weep, 
 
 That my arms ne'er again will around him enfold. 
 
 Ah ! many a time, at that window so small, 
 
 I the widow have seen, who lives over the way ; 
 
 And close to her side was her baby — her all — 
 Who frolicked and played all the long summer day. 
 
 Her face it keeps haunting my sad heart to-night, 
 As I saw it one evening, so pallid and worn ; 
 
 Oh ! I, who had ne'er tasted sorrow and blight, 
 No sympathy had for the hearts that do mourn. 
 
13G 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 As winter came on, with its sled and its snow, 
 In warmest of furs my darling I dressed, 
 
 While she hugged her babe closer than ever before, 
 And envied the rich, who were happy and blest. 
 
 For Fve seen her peer out through the white frosted 
 pane, 
 
 As I passed in my carriage, enveloped in fur ; 
 And, in pride, I exulted again and again, 
 That poverty came not to me, but to her. 
 
 Oh ! may God forgive me ! T should not have passed, 
 But stopped, in my elegant suit, at the gate, 
 
 And lifted the cloud which was over her cast 
 By stern, unrelenting and hard-hearted Fate. 
 
 Yes, take them ! and tell her to envy me not 
 
 The carved rosewood crib — 7 tis unoccupied now ! 
 
 My sad heart seems breaking — the bitterest lot 
 
 Were sweet, to the grief which my proud head doth bow. 
 
 Take all but the slippers, so cunning and sweet, 
 And tiny bright stockings, so soft and so warm — 
 
 The last that you put on his dear little feet ; 
 
 And crimson cloak, too, which enveloped his form. 
 
 All but one little dress, to her baby you take — 
 
 The one he wore last, when you took him clown street. 
 
 Oh ! let me not see it ! my heart it would break, 
 
 If my eye for a moment its bright folds should meet. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 137 
 
 And tell her, the face of her darling to-day, 
 
 As rosy and smiling it looks out again 
 From the low basement window just over the way, 
 
 But adds to my loneliness, heart-ache and pain. 
 
 Just take from my wardrobe whatever she needs — 
 The neat double wrapper and heavy grey shawl ; 
 
 He who spares the shorn lamb and the wee sparrow feeds, 
 Still lets into aching hearts some sunshine fall. 
 
 In mine it is midnight ! No deeper can be 
 
 The gloom which enshrouds me. Ah ! vain is my 
 wealth ! 
 
 I a palace would change for a hovel, to see 
 My sweet baby-boy all smiling in health. 
 
 Tell that pale, weary mother, who toils for her bread, 
 In value there's no treasure equal her own ; 
 
 To drop a tear for her whose darling is dead, 
 Who sits in her drear, darkened chamber alone. 
 
 Oh ! may she ne'er know all this agony wild 
 
 Which fills my sad heart, once blithesome and gay ; 
 
 May God spare the widow her bright, winsome child — 
 The sweet little baby just over the way. 
 
133 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 Zkt parried prnt'ss 
 
 A PAKODY. 
 
 I've a cabin in the woods, 
 Full of comfortable goods, 
 And a splendid little farm by the hill, 
 John Brown ; 
 And we often sit before 
 Our little cottage door, 
 While we listen to the click of the mill, 
 John Brown. 
 
 The birdlings twitter o'er 
 Our little cottage door, 
 And their merry chirping notes give us joy, 
 John Brown ; 
 But the beauty of my life 
 Is my own, my darling wife, 
 And the prattle of my precious baby-boy, 
 John Brown. 
 
 Come with us to the spot, 
 Where the world disturbs us not ; 
 Tread lightly and kneel gently on the sod, 
 John Brown ; 
 Oh ! I love to linger here, 
 With my precious, loved ones near, 
 And offer grateful thanks to our God, 
 John Brown. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH. 
 
 139 
 
 I heard thy thrilling voice when all around was gaily 
 bright, 
 
 And pant again to drink that tone of rapture and delight ; 
 My throbbing heart well cannot deem that voice is cold 
 and strange, 
 
 In such an hour it will forget that hearts like thine can 
 change. 
 
 Life is not life ! I would not live without thee, injured 
 one ! 
 
 By summer friends, by smiling foes, the painful deed was 
 done 5 
 
 It cannot be our friendship's bright and glowing dream is 
 o'er 5 
 
 It must not be that we shall meet as we have met, no more. 
 
 Have I offended ? Then forgive ; 'twill be the nobler 
 part. 
 
 And oh ! forget that I have wronged thy warm and gen- 
 erous heart. 
 
 Oh ! would that I, by act of mine, my changeless love 
 might prove ! 
 
 I would not willingly have pained the heart of him I love. 
 
140 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 %1xt %e$uU& (&vm. 
 
 Yes, poor, neglected grave ! It were a shame 
 To see wild flowers and weeds at random grow, — 
 
 There might have been a slab, with his loved name 
 Upon it, but to tell who lies below. 
 
 Four long, long years away from thee, my love — 
 Four years of woe and bitterness and pain — 
 
 Since thy pure spirit soared to realms above, 
 And for thy presence I have yearned in vain. 
 
 Twice have my poor unwilling feet to tread 
 
 The sacred spot where thou art sleeping, dared ; 
 
 ? Tis only there that I can feel thee dead — 
 
 Thou who my every thought and feeling shared. 
 
 Strangers, and all who pass the hallowed place, 
 a Have gazed upon this rude, neglected mound, 
 And wondered Time could thus so soon efface 
 
 Thine image, since thou sleepest 7 neath the ground. 
 
 But oh, I feared to trust myself to see 
 
 The grave where they had laid thy form away, 
 
 And know that thou, the best beloved to me, 
 Like common earth couldst go to dread decay. 
 
POEMS OF MBS. LEACH, 
 
 141 
 
 So wild — rebellious — that I fain would tear 
 The heavy clods from off thy sweet, sweet face 5 
 
 And, for a moment, felt that I would dare 
 To rescue thee from thy lone resting place. 
 
 ; Tis well I knew not when they laid thee there — 
 Saw not the coffin, as they let thee down — 
 
 For, with the bitterest cry and wildest prayer, 
 And clasping arms, defying worldly frown, 
 
 I would have held thee back, my darling one ! 
 
 For thou wast all the world to me ; and must 
 I see them heap the red clay high upon, 
 
 And hear the words, Return thou " dust to dust" ! 
 
 To plant a flower, and know thou couldst not see, 
 
 Nor e'er inhale its delicate perfume ! 
 That it could kiss the sunlight, and could be 
 
 A thing of life — but thou wert in the tomb ! 
 
 To raise a stone, thy upright life to tell, 
 
 When language is so weak, and marble cold 5 
 
 Thy many virtues in my heart doth dwell, 
 But still forever must remain untold. 
 
 I come with these first opening flowers of spring, 
 My darling, to this dear sequestered spot ; 
 
 A simple, pure and sacred offering — 
 
 But ah ! my loved one, thou can'st see them not ! 
 
142 
 
 SCATTERED LEAVES. 
 
 The white rose, dripping with the morning dew, 
 
 And the sweet violet, through its green leaves burst, 
 
 That I might mingle its rare fragrance, too j 
 Ah ! can I lay them here ? I must ! I must ! 
 
 Be still, rebellious heart, and cease thy murmuring ! 
 
 With gentle hand plant evergreens around, 
 And wreathe this simple slab with flowers of spring. . . . 
 
 Life's fitful fever over, here, beside this mound, 
 
 Near thy loved side, Fll lay me down in peace, 
 With folded hands and quiet pulseless breast. 
 
 When life's conflicting cares and sorrows cease, 
 Then, in sweet dreamless slumber, I shall rest. 
 
POEMS OF MRS. LEACH. 
 
 143 
 
 §to %mtA\t. 
 
 Zebulon Vance ! Oh ! what other loved Name 
 
 Entwines itself so 'round these true hearts of Ours ? 
 
 Brave hearts and bright eyes and glad lips Respond, 
 
 Unto him homage pay, who above the host Towers ! 
 
 Let mountain and plain resound with His praise, 
 
 Old ocean's wild billows sweep it on in their Course ; 
 
 Nature's voices, melodious, chant it. Arise ! 
 
 Be one mighty people — good laws our Resource. 
 
 Victorious at last, our struggles all O'er, 
 
 A fervent prayer breathe to the giver of * Light. 
 
 No fear for the future — good times are In store 5 
 
 Clouds all have dispersed — no longer 'tis Night 5 
 
 Ever more let the North State be governed Aright ! 
 
4'